DWDDT6 The Legend of Gizmoduck
by VAPX007
Summary: Suddenly Nazis. It's the Autumn of 1939. Again? Batduck and Superpig comics are in the newspapers. Frankenduck, Duckula, the Wizard of Oz and Snow White have all had turns in the picture theatres. Children play in billy carts and internet is how they catch fish. How can Scrooge McDuck stop World War II when everyone around him thinks he's mad? Follows on from Mind Warp.
1. Rinse and Repeat

_A/n: You can skip all the italics stuff to get to the start of the story._

_Disclaimer  
The outdated views, opinions, social preconceptions and misnomers expressed in this story are not the authors and not necessarily even the characters' under a regular narrative's circumstances. __The author also takes no ownership of the characters. Darkwing Duck, DuckTales and The Legend of the Three Caballeros belong to Disney._

_Preamble on morals__  
__Is __brevity the better part of social conformity? __Anything this author has written has never been intended to offend. This author would like to bring to the reader's attention that social opinions change over time. The author blanketly apologises for not being able to retroactively fix or even keep up with the dramatic shifts in morals of the 21st Century in all other instances of written content. Life changes. Stuff gets old and dated._

_I have gotten multiple requests to write something reminiscent of World War II. For anybody counting, that's 80 years ago. People back then were not like people now. _

_This story is __built on the idea that the vast majority of Callisotians' collective __knowledge of 1939 is from 'recounted tales'. This is a __'recounted interpretation' of how people were in Callisota in the Autumn of 1939. __There are therefore times in this story that may be described as 'aggravatingly backward'. _

_For a person such as myself who doesn't want to upset anyone to a point of ridiculousness in my personal life, __writing about WWII is... disconcerting. This is going to upset people. People outside my 'mum' check._

_Just to make my point of view abundantly clear for the flamers in the back row: **PEOPLE BACK THEN WERE NOT LIKE PEOPLE NOW**. I'm normally a very forgiving person and I try to understand everyone but the guy who plays high-hat is just a crumb. If you're having a bad day and looking to be insulted well, prepare to be insulted by the 1930s._

_I don't like surprises and especially not nasty ones, so here is the 'pretty nasty looking' colour palette used in _The Legend of Gizmoduck_. **Beware of spoilers for the following story:**_

_\+ A much heavier handling of my regularly scheduled social discrimination commentary  
__\+ People struggling financially  
__\+ Women deferring in the presence of able-bodied men  
__\+ Women wearing non-revealing clothing as fashionable and acceptable  
__\+ Women wearing revealing clothing and make up as not acceptable  
__\+ Women not working after getting married and having child/ren  
__\+ Men expected to lead, assistance only given if specifically asked  
__\+ Women in regular jobs only 'in the absence of men'  
__\+ Girls do 'girl things'  
__\+ Boys do 'boy things'  
__\+ Different Fuhrer, different policies  
__\+ Nazis not being nice to people including children  
__\+ Not being nice to Nazis  
__\+ Nazi invasion and current control over Callisota  
__\+ Nazis putting swastikas over things  
__\+ Half-baked social caste system incorporating eugenics and slavery  
__\+ Star Trek references... obviously. Do you think I would actually lower my moral content grade to that of H.P. Lovecraft?_

_Major references to (wow, they really don't like us referring to stuff, do they?):_

_Wikipedia  
__paper-dragon .com __/1939/slang .html  
__timetoast .com __/timelines/science-and-technology-of-the-1930s  
__aso .gov .au/titles/radio/menzies-speech-declaration-war/clip1/_

_Moving on, finally, to the story._

* * *

_On 1 September, 1939, Nazi Germany invaded Poland. - Menzies_

_Poland never formally surrendered. - __Wikipedia_

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**79**

**Rinse and Repeat**

* * *

"No!" Scrooge McDuck fought through the purple in his sight. "I willna go through it again!"

Scrooge fell back against his seat, breathing heavy from the mental struggle. He looked over at Launchpad driving normally, though the car had changed around them. Launchpad's clothes had changed to an old fashioned driver's outfit. Black boots, grey pants, black gloves, buttoned up grey jacket with upturned collar and matching grey chauffeur's hat.

He was still in his red outfit. Scrooge turned around to look back at his nephew Donald. Donald was wearing his regular navy coloured sailor's suit and hat.

"Are..." Scrooge gulped, "you two feeling alright?"  
_"Well, if we are, we won't be in a minute."_ Donald pointed out the windscreen. _"You'd better pull over, Launchpad, or we'll get in even more trouble if they start firing at us."_

Scrooge turned back in his seat to see a swastika marked police van through the back window.

Launchpad pulled over and four soldiers in buttoned up jackets with red black and white swastika armbands stepped out of the van. Scrooge rubbed his eyes. Their outfits and faces were tinted purple.

Launchpad rolled down his window.  
"We are under orders to take you all in to the Fuhrer for questioning." The Nazi said. "If you resist us you will be shot."  
Scrooge frowned. "I cannae believe this charade."  
_"Uncle Scrooge."_ Donald got out of the car and insisted helping him out against Scrooge's preference. _"We'd better do what they say, __Uncle Scrooge__."_

The Nazis handcuffed them and shoved them roughly into the back of their re-purposed antique police van. For a brief moment, Scrooge had a full panoramic view of the antique assortment of cars, motorised buggies, carriages and the occasional horse drawn cart littering the streets around them.

* * *

As the purple Nazis drove through the town, Scrooge watched everything from the security grilled window, seated in the back of the old black police wagon. From his memory, it looked roughly like the late 1930s, early 1940s. Nazis had decidedly 'not' invaded Callisota in that time, so whatever had happened to them just now, it was definitely not time travel.

"Seems like they're taking us to the university." Launchpad mused, "I wonder why."  
_"That's where the Fuhrer must be."_ Donald answered.  
"But we just came from there." Scrooge frowned. "Could that be a coincidence?"  
_"We came from the university?"_ Donald repeated.  
"No," Launchpad disagreed, "pretty sure we were in town getting food and supplies for our you know what with you know who." He finished.  
_"Yeah."_ Donald nodded.

"Maybe you're feeling a bit under the weather, Mr McDee?"

Scrooge frowned at Launchpad's suggestion. "Do either of you remember everything going purple just before we had to pull over?"  
They both nodded.  
"Aye, then at least I'm not alone on that." He frowned, "Felldrake must've gotten out. Donald, I thought you said he couldn't get out of that force field?"  
Donald blinked at him, _"What's a force field, Uncle Scrooge?"_

Scrooge saw Launchpad and Donald both blinking at him across the back seat of the police wagon.

The wagon turned the corner into New Quackmore. "I'm not mad." Scrooge replied to their expressions. "That purple energy wave has done something to your minds." He grated in annoyance at the very idea of his being less than sane. "Do you remember..." He thought for a moment, looking at Donald. "Panchito and Jose; when you were working at the college?"

Donald shook his head, _"Uncle Scrooge, I've never worked anywhere but the navy since I left school."  
_"Well, uh," Scrooge thought, "When did you come back from that?"  
_"A day ago."_ Donald answered, _"For my long service leave."  
_Scrooge swallowed, "What about your nephews?"  
Donald smiled with affection. _"They've really grown up since I last saw them."_

Scrooge let this confusion settle over him. Their memories had been mixed up, turned around and changed. He wanted to ask what year they thought it was, but by their body language, the pair didn't need another reason to think he was losing his mind.

The van jerked to a stop. The Nazis opened the back doors and pulled them roughly out.

* * *

The Nazis marched them up the steps into the massive university building. They were right next door to the little cabin that belonged to Donald.

The three were led up the stairs and down the hall. The Nazis knocked on the door.

"Come in."  
"Deputy Fuhrer Sheldgoose."  
A goose dressed in a brown Nazi dress uniform with a red, black and white swastika band on his arm, and judging by his moustache moderately evil had he been a Nazi or not, was sitting at the desk. He looked up at them as they came in.

Scrooge vaguely recognised him. "I was expecting someone else."  
"The Fuhrer?" The goose scoffed. "The Fuhrer doesn't see prisoners in person."  
Scrooge considered the goose's familial appearance. "Of course, but you're related to the Fuhrer. Did everything go purple for you as well or were you immune to it?"

The goose studied him darkly. "Perhaps you know why it didn't affect you?"

Scrooge scoffed, "You willna convince me of anything, you overstuffed lickspittle." He answered.  
The goose bristled, "A what?"  
"Or would you rather me lie to you like the Mind's Eye is doing to everyone?"  
_"Enough!"_ Sheldgoose snapped. "Put them in the dungeon with the other prisoners until we can 'organise' something more appropriate for them."

* * *

Through a trapdoor in the floor, the Nazis led them down a spiral staircase into the depths of the earth.

Eventually they came to a series of cells and were locked inside.

Scrooge was relieved to have the cuffs off his wrists but now came worse worries as he saw who the 'other prisoners' were. "Webbigail? Lena? Violet?"

The girls blinked at him through the side bars.  
"Mr McDuck!" Webbie stepped over, "I'm so very glad to see you... while simultaneously being even more afraid for my own well being. If they caught you we don't have a prayer of getting out of here."  
"Take heart, lass," Scrooge smiled reassuringly at her, "Y'never seen Carrot Blanca, lass?"  
"No, Mr McDuck." She answered, wiping tears from her eyes.  
Wrong era. "Well, uh, have you ever read a Scarlet Pimperbill book?"

Webbie shook her head, "No, Mr McDuck. Those books are for boys. I'm a good girl." She smoothed down her pink dress.

Scrooge gazed at Webby in numb horror, then let his eyes move on to the other girls. Violet was dressed in a pinafore like Webby. Lena was wearing a skirt, blouse and cravat.

"What do you remember about who you are, Lena?" Scrooge asked her.  
Lena crossed her arms. "News of my ability to do magic is wildly exaggerated. My dad's the wizard; not me."  
"Your... dad?"  
"Poe De Spell." She answered, then stopped, looking at Scrooge, "That's impossible, you can't be remembering something different?"  
"I suppose it's because I fought it off so hard." Scrooge answered, "I already been through World War Two, I donna need to repeat it."  
"That explains why you've been locked up." Lena replied flatly. "So you're saying the whole entire war is being created by magic?"

Scrooge gazed at Lena. "It has to be the Mind's Eye. We need to recover that amulet."  
Lena's eyes opened wide, "Whoa, ixnay on the indmay yay, Mr McDuck!" She shook her head. "You don't know what it'll do to you if you touch it."  
Scrooge frowned, "We need to put that crystal somewhere safe and keep it out of the wrong hands."  
"Every hand is the wrong hand, Mr McDuck, even yours!" Lena exclaimed. "Only a really high arch mage or theurgist can control that thing properly."

To get off his bad leg, Scrooge sat down on the bunk. Scrooge glanced over at Donald. "Donald seems fine; he was in contact with it earlier."

_"I was what?"_ Donald asked in confusion.  
Lena went slightly pink in horror. "He can't have been in control of it?!"  
_"What's going on, what crystal?"_ Donald was bewildered.  
"Don't worry about it," Lena cooed at him. "You're peachy. He's peachy, right, Webby?"  
"Um, sure, peachy. Apart from being stuck down here in a cell where nobody knows where you are."

"Take heart, lass." Scrooge stated, "I've been in worse fixes than this."

In fear of upsetting the girls, Scrooge ended up silent. He wondered which was worse: Having purple Nazis running the country or risking the Mind's Eye artefact doing something to him that he'd regret. Probably the former.

"Lena," Violet spoke up, "If we got out of here and found you the right magic book to read, could you learn what that crystal would do to a person who grabs it?"  
Lena rubbed her head. "I'm not that smart, Violet. We'd need to find someone who's actually studied magic."

"I know someone." Scrooge nodded. "She's in St Canard... Launchpad, you drove to her place once."  
"I did?" Launchpad scratched his head.  
"The Mallards. Drake's wife is a witch."

Scrooge looked at Launchpad blinking back vacantly at him.

"Surely you remember your friend Drake?"  
"...Er, no... I mean, sure, Mr McDee, I know _'of'_ him." Launchpad shrugged off the moment. "I don't know where he lives though. Did you happen to catch his address in this dream you were in?" Launchpad stated.  
"It isn't a dream; the Nazis are a dream!"

Scrooge shook his head, "It looked like a castle."  
"S'pose we could find his address somewhere in a history book then." Launchpad shrugged. "That doesn't sound too hard to find."  
_"Great idea, Launchpad,"_ Donald stated.  
Scrooge blinked in surprise. "That actually is a good idea, Launchpad."

Launchpad folded his arms and looked away. "It'll be plenty dark out there now." Launchpad stated sullenly, "We'd better wait till morning before we make a break for it."  
Scrooge frowned, "the Nazis will spot us out better in the light, Launchpad."  
_"Launchpad's right, Uncle Scrooge."_ Donald frowned apologetically,_ "We've got to think of the girls."  
_"They're fi..." Scrooge's words caught as his gaze fell on Webby's face.

She and Violet were both utterly terrified.


	2. Pick a Path

_A/n: Hi, Wendy. Sorry, I am not going anywhere near any Land of the Dead stuff. I don't care if it's the hidden object game on my computer or a Wikipedia page on a 'G-Rated' movie with the same idea. I'd rather have my head removed. Very sorry. No Coco, no Paranormal Activity, no Flatliners. I can do Ghostbusters, I am okayish with Duckworth... so far._

_You were talking about Della being pregnant with the triplets? Dewey liking music while his brothers hate music and therefore aren't allowed to go anywhere? Is it like that classic story about possessed evil twins that Della keeps locked up in a cage in the attic since they were hatched and then swap places with Dewey when he discovers them so they can murder everyone in his life? I can do something with the evil twin idea, I'm sure._

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**80**

**Pick a Path**

* * *

Fenton Crackshell rubbed the purple from his eyes and looked around him at the science lab. Everything was quiet. He returned to looking through his notes written from his tests on Drake Mallard.

There were pages and pages of his handwriting. Fenton frowned, looking at his hand. He flexed his fingers. Something felt odd. He shrugged it off and returned to reading. He quite possibly had the most intact set of test results of a vampire in existence. The biggest opportunity of his career and he had completely blown it!

There was an explosive sound from overhead that shook the walls and ceiling. The lab was under attack! Fenton grabbed up his notes into the manilla folder. Not seeing anything else valuable lying around, he climbed into the air vent and shut it behind him.

Beneath him, the lab door of the elevator beeped.

"The Fuhrer says to wait for him to return."

Curse words and other unpleasant statements echoed up into the duct. Fenton crept as quietly as he could up to the surface, trying his best to ignore their conversation about him.

They really didn't like him.

* * *

By the time Fenton reached topside, he was furiously angry and his heart was racing. The first Nazi he saw standing on guard, he slammed his fist down over his shoulder blades. Carrying the force of his first blow, Fenton swung back on the other guard who had just turned to him and knocked his beak out of alignment.

"Take that, 'genius'!" Fenton knocked the other out, then took a reeling, heart pounding moment to appreciate the fact he'd just beaten up a pair of military officials. Then he grabbed a rifle up to review. "Five shots, bolt-action, no scope." Fenton felt his temper slowing to a simmer as he hooked the rifle over his shoulder and picked up the other one. "M'ma's going to love this."

* * *

Fenton waited for the sunset to end, keeping his guard up in case more Nazis decided to come around the corner and check on their friends. He was in luck, however, as it wasn't too long to wait. He only needed to knock out one of his previously knocked out guards before it was dark enough that he felt he wouldn't be so easily spotted.

At the other end of the bridge there were another set of guards. He tried getting around them but got behind the cart too late. They fired at the car between until it exploded. Fenton dived over the embankment at the last second.

Slightly scorched, Fenton picked his way along the low tide shoreline until he found a safe place to climb back up onto the boardwalk. Under the cover of darkness, Fenton continued making the difficult way through the Nazi patrolled streets. The police station was only a few more streets away.

* * *

Fenton hastily ducked into the alleyway to get clear of the patrolling Nazis heading his way. Fumbling for a hiding place behind the dumpster, Fenton knocked over a soda bottle.

The Nazis swung around the corner, and Fenton swung the butt of the rifle. He got a fist back from the second officer which connected and made Fenton stagger back. With a last second of desperation, Fenton tackled him.

"You are not... taking me!"

* * *

Both patrollers unconscious, Fenton breathed heavily for his effort.

As he got closer to the police station, Fenton felt a sense of trepidation mixed with faint exhaustion.

The front door opened and... He stared in horror as Nazis came out.

"M'ma..." His mind raced. Were the police locked up in the overnight cells? The statistical probability of one duck and two rifles, neither of which he had learnt to fire being that they were identical, overthrowing a Nazis run police office while mildly concussed was not at all. Fenton withdrew into the alleyway. "Alone, outmatched, outgunned... retreat is the only option." Fenton shut his eyes and bit back on his fear and weary exhaustion, the pain from his head injury, the ache in his limbs.

"I need to rest somewhere I can at least moderately trust to be safe." He closed his eyes, running through a mental map of the town. Trying to get to his home would take him on a western route and directly through town. The only other option was to got to McDuck's which was the north road up.

It was still several streets away.


	3. Marigold

_A/n: Hi, Wendy. Sorry, no Land of the Dead stuff for me. No hidden object game, no Wikipedia page. No Coco, no Paranormal Activity, no Flatliners. I can do Ghostbusters, I am okayish with Duckworth... so far. _

_Could you perhaps find a less utterly-terrifying movie that you like? What about a nice satanic blood cult? A cozy doorway to a demon dimension? Something to the tune of Silent Hill? Obscure? Penumbre? Alan Wake? Eternal Darkness? Lust for Darkness? __Oh, I know, how about another Splatterhouse story? __More Call of Cthulu?_

_You were talking about Della being pregnant with the triplets, so how about Rosemary's Baby? That was a ten times friendlier movie to watch.  
Dewey liking music while his brothers hate music and therefore aren't allowed to go anywhere; that sounds like the classic evil twin story where the parent locks their 'chosen undesirable' children up in a cage in the attic since they were hatched turning them feral (as a self-fulfilling prophecy) and then Dewey discovers them and __they __trap 'him' in the cage for the rest of 'his' life. I could work with that kind of story._

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**81**

**Marigold**

* * *

Reginald Bushroot blinked back the purple from his sight and looked around at the others in the warehouse with him.

"Uh, Megavolt, what were you saying?" Reginald asked.  
"...I don't remember." Megavolt frowned.

"Anyway, as I was saying before you geniuses interrupted," Negaduck rubbed his head, "the Nazis now hold the whole city to ransom. That means food is going to be even harder to come by."  
"You're figuring on doing something, Negaduck?" Megavolt asked.  
"Yeah." Negaduck answered, "Let's make like Robin Hood."  
Reginald shook his head, "This isn't exactly Sherwood forest, Negaduck." He disagreed, "And we don't know where the Fuhrer is to get at him."  
"Well, good, big goal, o.k." Negaduck stated, "Let's put it on the bucket list. For right now, we need to get that money outta that bank and into the hands of people needing to buy food."  
"Does money even actually make a difference?" Megavolt was puzzled.  
"Do you want your mother to starve now she's run out of green stamps?" Negaduck looked dolefully at Megavolt.  
"Uh, no. No I don't, actually."

Negaduck turned to Quackerjack, "And what about your precious kittens?"  
Quackerjack trembled, "Well, they'll be able to feed themselves better than I can at least..."

Reginald paused. What was wrong with Quackerjack? He seemed so strong a minute ago.

"So we're finally agreed. That didn't just take forever, boy howdy." Negaduck gestured in futility and headed to the door of the warehouse.

* * *

Reginald really had no idea how to do this and most of his companions looked mighty uncomfortable with doing it. Negaduck forced the front door of the closed bank. The four walked in after him. It was free of security guards.

They got so far as the vault to discover it completely empty.

* * *

"We're too late!" Negaduck stared at the ransacked vault. "The Nazis already hit this place!"

Negaduck stormed off to stand outside the front door. "Alright, new plan." He pointed up the road. "We charge whatever that place of theirs is and steal every fruit, vegetable and bowl of oatmeal right from under their grubbing beaks!"

"Right!" The four cheered in agreement.

Negaduck turned to them, eyeing them as though they were acting strangely. "That, that was odd. You remember these guys are armed to the teeth, right?"  
Reginald instinctively ran his tongue over his own teeth. No, he'd just watched too many horror movies. Totally not possible, besides he was a plant, not a snake. He checked his leaves, yep, definitely foliage.

From their long range position, Megavolt zapped the guards on front door duty. "Let's go." He stated with a keen glint in his eye.

* * *

They pushed in through the front doors.

Quackerjack casually tripped a guard inside the black and white tiled foyer and giggled. "Actually, you know, this is kind of fun."  
Liquidator knocked the other one over the large wooden reception desk and hard against the wall. "You're out of the running!"

More officers came in to join the fight.

* * *

The five found a kitchenette and added the basic ration supplies into their nearly empty burlap sack.

"Wonder what this place is used for...?" Negaduck paused for a moment to ponder.  
"Lets find out!" Liquidator agreed.  
"Oh, goody, yes please!" Quackerjack clapped his hands. "We're having such a grand time."

* * *

After a while of beating through more officers, they eventually came to a set of newly constructed cells: a series of office rooms with blanket bundles instead of furniture and the wooden doors replaced with bars.

A little girl with a beautiful cascade of brown hair in shiny ringlets sat crying in a corner.

"What're you doing in here, kid?" Negaduck barked in rough question.  
Negaduck's tone sparked a sudden dislike in Reginald's mind, "Never mind him, sweet pea," He interrupted, shouldering past Negaduck. "We'll get you out." He worked to unlock the padlock without a key.  
"What? It was a legitimate question." Negaduck retorted.  
"You play too rough, Negaduck." Reginald admonished in a clipped tone.

"What's your name, little girl?" Megavolt asked in a friendly tone.  
"M-Marigold." She said tearfully.  
Reginald managed the lock and swung the bars open. "It's alright." He pushed past Megavolt and knelt down to the little girl.  
"Oh, I see how it is..." Megavolt grunted, "Fine; you keep her then."  
"You'll be alright now, Marigold." Reginald ignored Megavolt, "My name's Reggie. That's Megs and Quackers, Negaduck and Licky."

"Why've they got this set up?" Negaduck frowned. "I don't like it."  
"Oo, I bet they have some 'nasty' looking toys in here." Quackerjack alighted, "Let's go see."

_"No!"_ The little girl leapt into Reginald's arms. "Don't leave me."

Reginald picked her up and turned around.

Quackerjack and Liquidator gave Reginald commiserating looks before heading off to continue on their trek deeper into the Nazi place. Megavolt shot him a 'you asked for it' look before joining them.  
Negaduck stared deadpan into Reginald's eyes, "You know I'm taking this as desertion, right?" He said humourlessly.  
"It was bound to happen eventually," Reginald responded dryly, "You're the most infuriating duck I've ever met."  
"You wouldn't say that if you were as hungry as the rest of us." Negaduck turned on his heel and left.

"All gone away." Marigold started crying.  
"It's alright, Marigold, we can say hello to them another day." Reginald rubbed her back, the child still lightly sobbing in his vines. "It's alright. Let's go somewhere safe, you'd like that, right? I'll take you to my house, I have a garden inside my house. Would you like to see?"

She nodded up at him. "Yes." Her sobs faded.

* * *

Reginald retraced his steps through the building and headed back out the front door. He got to his car and drove with Marigold in the passenger seat. Negaduck might consider this as 'deserting', but Reginald somehow doubted he'd be missed all that much.

Reginald put Marigold down so she could look at the plants in his greenhouse. He had little use of the studio room at the back these days, but he still had some tinned food in his cupboard and the water was still connected despite the depression... How long before the Nazis turned off the water? On the errant thought he began filling up his decanters and bottles with water.

He noticed Marigold watching him. "How are you; getting sleepy, Marigold?"  
She answered with a nod. "Want teddy."  
Reginald smiled slightly. "I don't have one on hand. How about we make one together?"

Marigold smiled back at him and nodded.

Reginald hunted around the greenhouse, gathering cotton for stuffing and fibers for stitching. He plucked a cactus needle and twisted some cotton fibers together to make some thread. He got out an old brown suit jacket from his cupboard. "Here, you see." With a pair of scissors, Reginald cut the shape on two layers of fabric, then sewed the layers flat together. He left a hole in the side, turned it right side out and handed her the nearly finished toy. "Go on, you put the stuffing in him."

Reginald watched a happy Marigold work, pushing the cotton into the arms, ears and face.

Marigold then pushed the toy into his leafy hands.  
"All done?" Reginald finished stuffing the arms, then sewed up the hole in the side. It was then he realised his mistake and awkwardly sewed on some buttons from the jacket for eyes and stitched in a basic mouth and a nose.

"There you go." Reginald smiled as Marigold took the bear and hugged it. "Now we have to think of a name for him."

Marigold cradled the bear in her arms, pointing down at the bear's nose. "Madeline." She declared, pointing out Reginald's terrible job of slip stitching the teddy's side. It looked a little like a scar. "The doctor made her better." She hugged the bear to herself.

"Oh, it's a girl." Reginald blushed, "Well, Madeline, it's Marigold's bedtime. Can you please help her get ready? I'm going to make sure her bed's all nice and comfy."

* * *

Reginald fetched Marigold a glass of water from the sink and led her back to his old bunk. Marigold sipped some of the water and Reginald put the glass on the small side table next to the ticking alarm clock so she could get at it if she got thirsty in the night.

He tucked her under the covers with the teddy bear.  
"Can you tell me a story, Reggie?"  
Reginald searched his mind, "Golly, I don't have any story books..."

He struggled, "Once upon a time there was a little elephant in a jungle. Some bad men came and he ran into a nearby city to hide. An old lady came and rescued him. She taught him how to cook and sew..." Reginald grimaced. He sounded like he was reading a blurb rather than the children's book. He looked down to Marigold, "They became best friends." He smiled at her sleepy blinking, "She looked after him and raised him to be big and strong. They had lots of adventures together." He brushed her brown curly hair from her eyes. "Goodnight, sweet Marigold."

"And Madeline." She said sleepily.

Reginald chuckled, "And Madeline." He stood up. "I'll be in the big room with all the plants, so if you need anything, just call out."  
"Good night, Reggie." She smiled sleepily.  
"Sleep tight, little Marigold and Madeline."


	4. Visions

_A/n: Hi Wendy, Pirates of the Caribbean? Yes! Surely I can contrive a way to get Darkwing Doubloon into this story for you._

_Marigold was a request by another reader. I hope she likes it. I put Marigold into the universe in a way that made sense._

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**82**

**Visions  
**

* * *

Drake Mallard blinked back the purple from his sight. What was he thinking of just now?

He puzzled the question. The image of a little girl with red hair floated through his mind. It was she, who he'd been thinking of. Drake frowned, feeling like he needed to hurry. But why? For the phantom of a non-existent child? Were these visions a sign of madness? How much heed should he pay? Perhaps they were warning him, predicting his impending death. To any and all of those answers, there was still no reason to rush his steps. To try to enforce his self-control, Drake intentionally detoured to his mother's art studio room.

In a cream coloured buttoned up dress, Eleanor with her fashionably curly short cut blonde hair stood in front of her easel. She looked concerned as she regarded her half-finished painting in the fading afternoon light.

"Mother." Drake greeted her, stepping into the room.  
"Hello, Drake." Eleanor said in a warm voice as she turned to him, "Perhaps you could tell me?" She turned back to the painting in front of her. "Does it look a bit odd to you?"

Drake considered it. It was a cubistic painting of an autumn harvest spread. A pumpkin was centred amongst an array of corn and wheat; all of which was distorted as though so many small squares of glass had been layered over the top of the model vegetables. "It looks beautiful, mother. It captures the fall colours splendidly."  
"Well, I certainly did choose the 'colours'," she smiled at him, "So I'm happy to take that compliment. Though, I really don't know about the style. It feels... abrupt... not that there's anything wrong with it..." She stopped and let out a sigh.

"Maybe you're in a softer mood?" He suggested.  
"That's it! That's what it is!" She snapped the idea up. "I'm simply not in the mood for geometry." She shook her head with a chuckle. "Well, such extreme geometry in any case. And what is art, if you're not in the mood for it?"  
Drake glanced around at the various geometric paintings in the room. She'd probably just overdone it. "One never goes without a mood of some sort, however. What about surrealism?"  
"A dream captured in a painting. That's so witty! Yes, I think I'll try that." She paused, considering.  
"You'll probably have a lot of ideas you can draw on," Drake considered pensively, "All these strange discoveries we've made about our family tree over the past few weeks."

"Oh, my dear; is that what's been bothering you?" Knowingly, Eleanor gave him a warm hug then cupped his cheek for a moment. "As shocking as it may sound; I didn't marry your father because he looked good in a uniform. I married him because he made good 'of' his uniform."  
"Thank you, mum. Mother." Drake smiled back. "You give me courage."

Eleanor went to her bureau to collect her sketchbook and pencil box. "You've just come back from the meeting. How was it?"  
"No success." Drake's smile faded into seriousness.  
"I'm sorry he didn't find your presentation compelling, dear." Eleanor let out a sigh.  
"Hiring someone like me is outside of McDuck's... scope of 'beneficence'."  
"He said that, truly?"  
"In his very... vernacular way of speaking, I am 'up to no good' and he just doesn't 'know what yet'."  
"Oh, outstanding!" She scoffed.  
"His logic is inescapable."  
"So are the Nazis without a forceful response!" Eleanor lectured. "What great strategy has he to allow himself such arrogance?"  
"Never mind, mother, I will-." Drake stopped as the image of the little girl passed through his mind again. The worry of time pressed in on him again. "Have a good night, mother."

"Don't run away, sweetie," she coaxed, "what did you want to say?"  
"Winter approaches and war is on our doorstep." Drake said in exasperation, "But here I am; wanting for things that aren't sensible."  
Eleanor put her hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps try something new to distract you?"  
Drake flexed his fingers, "No, I just need to go hunting right now."  
Eleanor nodded and withdrew her hand from his shoulder. "Then I won't keep you," she said seriously.

* * *

Drake went to his room and redressed in his evening clothes: the white shirt and gloves, the black suit jacket, cape and fedora hat. He regarded himself in his mirror. This had been the last role he'd ever been cast in before the sound stage had been attacked and McDuck had closed the studio to cut his losses.

It had seemed so authentic, that role. The costume felt far too comfortable; as though he'd been born to it. He had continued to wear the costume, continued to study the nature of the vampire, poured over his grandfathers' journals. It was far, far less of an act now than it had ever been before the camera.

"I am a vampire."

Drake closed his eyes and concentrated his mind on his role. With little effort, he could feel the air around him, hear the rats and spiders within the walls. The other family members in the house were cooking, smelting, or on guard duty upstairs. Eventually he could hear their hearts beating.

His mind reeled with the thrilling rush of blood.

The delicate nature of life was sobering.

Slowly, Drake opened his eyes. It wasn't any surprise to find the mirror now vacant; it'd taken much work to change his mind so completely. Unlike the movie which dictated his personal script, however, Drake appreciated the extra anonymity. It was all the better to hunt with for no shop window would betray his presence in this state; now he had only his shadow to master.

"I am Darkwing Duck."

* * *

Drake walked downstairs and found his granddaughter Catlyn in a fashionably high neck blue dress and apron in the kitchen with Morgana in a high neck black dress and apron.

Catlyn's red hair reminded him of his lost thoughts from earlier. Perhaps it was the fact of her coming of age that had driven a feeling of nostalgia to him? Whatever the reason, his sufferance was far beyond nostalgia now. It beat at him with savage relentlessness, driving him faster towards the door.

"I am going out, ladies," Drake informed them.

Morgana left what she was doing for a farewell kiss.  
As Drake held her hands, he cooed. "I have been less than fair to you, my love. I will try to make amends." He kissed her fingers.

Drake regarded Catlyn with a whimsical smile.  
She frowned, looking back at him in concern. "Are you alright, grandfather?"  
His smile grew determined. "You've become a fine young lady." He bowed lightly to them both and turned for the hall. "Terror comes with the night."

Drake stepped in through the passageway into the garage.

* * *

The garage vibrated with the rhythmic clanging noise as his father beat the red hot metal into shape on the anvil.

It was a different world in here from the rest of the castle, despite some of the foundation being placed at the same time as the earliest stones. The smell of gasoline on one end, the smell of hay and the heat from the smelter on the other. The open gates of the garage gave the feeling of being outside while still being sheltered from most of the elements.

Right before him, Drake's Mercedes-Benz 770 gleamed, the black paint and chrome polished proudly.

In the far corner, Harley was sitting on a blanketed hay bale with her feet up and her arms wrapped around her knees. She was watching the flames in the furnace. The noise of Drake's father striking the hot metal over and over was no bother to her. Like Morgana, Harley was tall, but there was where their resemblance ended. Harley had cobalt blue eyes, wore a leather flat cap over her volumes of silver hair, and had more make-up on her face than Drake's mother, wife and granddaughter combined. She was clad in an tight leather outfit from boot to glove and had armour plates strapped to every spare inch of her.

* * *

Harold glanced up at him and continued to strike the hot metal. "Going hunting again, son?" He asked over the noise of the strikes.

"I am deeply driven." Drake replied over the din, "I can't stifle the urge like you can."  
"We may all be hunting soon; even the ladies." Harold replied in seriousness as he continued belting the metal. "The Nazis may come baying at our door anytime."  
"As much as that sounds fun," Drake replied loudly, "I really can't stand the wait."  
"You and me both, Darkwing," Harley agreed, "Let's split."  
"Watch yourself out there, son." Harold interrupted with a moment of parenting, "Nazis aren't like your usual eggmen. Your regular magic tricks aren't going to cut it."  
"Your advice is well received, father." Drake nodded.  
"What was that?" His dad stopped belting the metal, "I didn't hear you."  
"Yes, sir!" Drake snapped to momentary attention.  
Harold nodded in approval, "break a leg, son." He started hitting the metal again.  
"Or perhaps five..." Drake replied darkly.

Harley stood up and headed to the Mercedes, the copious number of chains she kept hooked to her utility belts clinked together slightly as she moved. Drake followed on her heel.

"We can start at the radio tower; see if it still exists." Harley suggested.  
Drake shook his head. "We've got to think bigger than that, Harley." He got into the back seat of the car.  
Harley got into the driver's seat. Inside the car with the doors shut it was a great deal quieter.

"Remember the city doesn't have S.H.U.S.H. right now." He continued. "We've got to cut as big a swathe through this problem as we can."  
"So what's the plan?" She asked.  
"Let's do a main road circuit." Drake decided calmly, "Works Street first, university last. Hopefully we'll find some S.H.U.S.H. operatives in there seeing as it still has its..." Drake stopped, looking up in concern at the back of Harley's head. The world lay open and waiting before them and she had yet to pull the choke. "Are you alright, Harley?"  
"Sure, Darkwing." She started the car and slowly drove out of the garage. "What a funky old clunker." Harley remarked.

"The car? I don't hear anything out of place. What are you hearing?"  
Harley frowned, "It's my heart. It doesn't sound right."  
Drake immediately was attentive to the steady beating of Harley's heart. "You are like music to my ears." He declared.  
"I'll defer to your opinion, I guess."

They exited the driveway and headed up the early nighttime road towards town.


	5. Children

_A/n: This is my first real attempt to use the Hemingwayapp to improve my writing._

_A/n: If I can incorporate your ideas into this story I will. However I honestly don't have time to write this story in the first place, so AUs are definitely not going to happen anywhere in the near future. _

_A/n: I don't know. I wasn't on the planet when I edited this._

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**83**

**Children**

* * *

The Audubon Bridge's iconic towers loomed up ahead.

"What's this, a roadblock?" Harley said as she slowed the car down to a stop before the Nazi guards and their installed barrier rails.

Drake frowned from his seat in the back, "They're blocking the bridge road? Are they isolating the northern suburbs?"  
"I'll fix that." Harley growled, putting her hand on her door handle.  
"Steady, Harley." Drake calmed her, "Let them come to us, first."

She waited as the guard came and tapped on Harley's window. Harley wound it down.

"Nobody in or out." The Nazi stated, "turn back home."  
"I think he's close enough now, Harley." Drake spoke in a quiet voice.

"Wham!" Harley slammed her free fist into the guard's face. She opened her door and launched herself clear out of the car at him.

The sound of gunfire rang through the air. One hit the car. Harley's chains rattled and the guards cried out in pain.

Several moments later, Harley called out to Drake from behind the car. "I'm out of gas!"

Calling up a wall of air, Drake opened the door and eased out of the car. The last guard was in a long range position, using the start of the protective cement barrier for cover. His bullets hit the wall of air and sank into the asphalt.

**"I am the terror that flaps in the night."** Drake stepped through the scene. The nearby street lamps had trussed Nazis dangling by their feet from them.

**"I am your passport that just ran out."** Drake loomed before the military officer. He grabbed the rifle from the solder and tossed it to the ground.

**"I, am Darkwing Duck and _'you'_ are going to tell me _'everything'."_**

The soldier straightened to attention. "I will not."

It was exactly like his father had said. "Yes, you will." Drake seized the officer, leaned in and bit down.

* * *

_A mansion. Blue-grey shingle, small Gothic spires and Victorian style windows. The vision swirled amongst the images of the bridge, the car, Harley, and Drake himself. Further in lay a purple void._

* * *

Mystified, Drake let him go and the Nazi guard staggered back.

"V-vampiren..." The guard sank to the ground, unconscious.

"Huh; so that's what purple tastes like..." Drake looked down at the Nazi guard. What had he just bitten? "It's a shikigami, no not even that; a gingerbread man, a golem!" He took a moment to consider his discovery. "...Well, that's disconcerting."

Drake cleared the roadblock as Harley tidied up her work. He pondered the usefulness of their tactics. Could they really strike fear into the hearts of those who had so briefly been alive?

"Let's collect these weapons." Drake directed. "We don't want them hurting actual people."

Together they collected the guns and ammo. They dumped them in the trunk of the car and got back into their seats.

* * *

Drake noted how relaxed Harley was now. "That was fun," he asserted.

"Loads," she answered in an affirmative tone as she started the car.

The puzzle continued on in Drake's mind as they passed over the bridge. How much fear and disordinance could they drive into the hearts of these new enemies?

"Info, Darkwing?" Harley asked.  
"Info?" What was that?  
"You said you get information from-."  
"...Oh, from the bite, right." He paused, "...The Nazis are like gingerbread men. They're real enough to kill us and they'll act like you expect of someone in their frosting. But they were baked less than an hour ago."  
"But they invaded this morning." Harley countered in confusion.  
"Which means our memories have been tampered with," Drake responded in a grim tone.  
"Oh."

"Their creator is residing in a French Provincial style mansion with grey shingle... I don't recognise the place so it can't be St Canard."  
"What do you mean _'baked'?"_  
"They weren't hatched, they don't have a past. This whole Nazi business is nothing but a cookie carnival gone wrong."

"Oh..." Harley's voice sounded distant.  
"Are you alright?" Drake frowned.  
"I don't remember hatching," she admitted.  
"Nobody remembers hatching, Harley." He said in a kind tone, "I was talking about them never being children."

"I don't remember that either." Harley said in a fretful tone.

She didn't? Drake was tense. With his memories tampered with, what could he say that was genuine and true?

"You're very real to me, Harley, and I trust you with my life. That's got to count for something."  
"Thanks, Darkwing." She answered in a sober tone.

There was nothing more Drake could say about it. Was Harley another gingerbread man like the Nazis? He needed more information!

* * *

The drive for the next few minutes was uneventful. They travelled across the bridge and into town. There was some low level Nazi patrols out and about but no serious situations in their view.

"Hey, Nazis have taken over the arts centre." Harley observed and found a place to pull over.  
Drake listened to the crowd inside, "There's a ton of people in that place... At least they're not too panicked." He realised the situation could be worse.

They left the car for a nearby alleyway. Drake helped Harley up to the roof of the arts centre.

* * *

He steadied her on her feet.

"Sorry..." She frowned, "Me and heights, I don't know. I think I'd rather book 'em on the way out."  
"I appreciate your preference," he replied, "but this mission requires stealth."  
"You better lead then." She suggested, "Anything I do is noisy as sin."

Drake chuckled as he regarded Harley's chain collection. "Alright, give me..." he considered the layout of the theatre beneath their feet, "ten minutes. If I haven't cleared out the place well enough, you can deal with the stragglers."

"That's cool. Then I'll have ten minutes to figure out how to get off this roof."

"You've never had a problem before..." Drake gazed at her in consideration. She looked so helpless and awkward it seemed unnatural.  
Harley shook her head, "I'm going to turn into an oil slick on the pavement, I just know it."

"You won't. We'll shadow in to the top level. It'll still work, you'll just need to be more still." Drake reassured her and took her in his arms.

* * *

He concentrated, again, with air, turned to shadow and drifted them down in through the theatre.

Drake left Harley to wait on a steady piece of floor within the confines of walls and went to scout out the theatre.

The Nazis had trapped the audience and were giving a speech about how much they now controlled St Canard. They were talking about the Fuhrer's various social policies. Drake worked his way around the top level, taking out the Nazis in the control booth, the Nazis at the sides of the stage.

The audience was filing out through the doors when Drake got back to Harley.

"A few left," he told her, leading her to the control booth. "Let's wait for everyone to leave, first."

They watched for a minute as the theatre emptied of citizens. Then they went down either side of the auditorium and knocked out the Nazis who had been guarding the doors.

* * *

Drake slipped into the auditorium. The Nazis had brought two children onto the stage. He couldn't get this guy like normal with them standing there.

"Do not worry, children," The speaker in a light coloured uniform gazed at them. "The Fuhrer is not without benevolence. We have a special reeducation facility for prospective slaves."

**"I am the terror that flaps in the night."** Drake uttered without another thought. He shadowed himself straight back to the control booth.

**"I am the lights that just went out."** He flicked off the lights.

Drake shadowed himself to stand behind the speaker in the gloom, drawing his cape up to cover his beak.

**"I am Darkwing Duck."** Drake grabbed up the Nazis from the stage and tossed them off the stage into the pit before the stairs.

Harley was in from the side and on them in a moment.

Drake turned his attention to the children. A little girl with red hair and dirty pink dress and a little boy in a dirty suit. They stood brave, clinging together. The little girl. The vision from his waking dreams.

"Where are your parents?" He questioned the pair.  
The boy tried to speak but couldn't. Tears welled in his eyes and he shook his head.  
"The Nazis..." The little girl sobbed. "We ran and hid in here, but they found us anyway. They... they got his sister."

The broken recount and tirade of emotion spelled one thing: orphans. Drake circled the children in thought. "What are your names?"  
"Gosalyn Waddlemire."  
"Honker Muddlefoot.  
"You are now my children," he declared.

"Your-your children?" The little boy stuttered. "B-b-but aren't you a..."

"Why, yes." Drake looked the boy in the eyes. "Yes I am a vampire. As you will be when you come of age." He gestured to the Nazis trussed up in the pit. "Would you rather take your chances out on the streets?"  
"N-n-no," Honker swallowed.  
"What about you, Gosalyn?" Drake asked her.  
She cowered beside Honker. "He's decided."

"Harley." Drake spoke to her beneath their view. "We will wait for you at the car."

* * *

In shadow, Drake took them out of the theatre and over to the Mercedes. He opened the back door for the children and closed it after them. He went and sat in the front passenger seat to wait for Harley.

"Are you really going to bite us?" Gosalyn asked in a tense voice.  
"No." He answered. "Forgive me if my words led you to fear more than what is reasonable."  
"So we won't really become vampires?" She said in a stronger tone.  
"You will, now you are my children. It is... mere inevitability." He shrugged.

"You talk so funny, mister." Gosalyn stated.  
"Father; as you are now my daughter." He corrected her. "And my son."  
"Father." Gosalyn revised.

Drake smiled to himself. His night couldn't get better if he tried. This was the very child he had envisioned earlier. The hurrying of time, the coming of winter; all his earlier feelings of angst were gone.

"What's she doing in there?" Honker asked.  
"We are few. Inspiring fear in our enemy is our greatest weapon." Drake gazed out the front windshield to the street. "We will drive dissent and madness into their ranks by making an example of those we defeat."

Harley came out of the building, got into the driver's seat and started the drive back home.

"It'll be a long night for us, Harley." Drake stated.  
"At least this gives us time to restock. We're going to burn through so much rope you'd think it was a fire sale."  
Drake pondered Harley's words, "We must at least clear the rest of the city exits."

* * *

They returned home unimpeded.

Drake led Gosalyn and Honker out into the lounge room of the castle. Morgana stood up from the armchair, putting down her book on the seat.

"Gosalyn, Honker." Drake raised his eyes to meet those of his bride's, "this is your new mother, Morgana Mallard."  
Morgana's face was a mixture of emotions, but after a moment her heart rate settled into place. "You poor dears." She bent down to them. "Come with me; I'll get you a warm drink."

At a slower pace, Drake followed them to the kitchen. Morgana put the kettle on the stove.

"I must return to the hunt."

Morgana frowned and pursed her beak, "husband."

* * *

She stepped out into the hall with him. Morgana's discerning eyes pierced through him. "I've just realised we've never actually had a conversation about children." She stated. "By that I mean our own children."  
"Only a man possessed brings up such an argument right before winter."  
She paused and raised her eyebrows. "What other argument could there be?"  
In answer, Drake swung her down and kissed her for a long moment.


	6. Della Duck

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**84**

**Della Duck**

* * *

Della felt very tense as she sat in the driver's seat of her Cadillac, waiting for the Nazi to come over to talk to her. She stared out the window at the barricade over the wooden steering wheel.

As he got to the side of the car, Della rolled down her window. "What's going on?" She asked.  
"This road is closed by order of the Fuhrer." He peered into the car. "No husband?"  
"Widow." She answered. "Or so help me if I ever lay eyes on him again I will be. Look here." Della frowned at the guard. "I've just driven two and a half hours from St Canard with three ducklings. You can't possibly be telling me to turn around." She pointed to the town up ahead. "That is our home."

"Sorry, Ma'am. Fuhrer's orders."

"Fuhrer's orders." Della repeated. "I suppose I can't do anything but what I am so told." She wound up the window. "Keep your heads down, boys."

Della revved the motor, making the guard jump backwards in surprise. She shifted gears as she slammed the car through the road blockers and shot off up the road at high speed. She swerved the car as shots rang out from behind and cries of fear came from the back seat.

_"Mum!"_  
_"Mu-um!"_

"You want something done, you've got to do it yourself." Della muttered. "You can sit up boys; we're out of range."

_"That... was... terrifying!"_ Dewey breathed.  
_"I've never held my breath for so long."_ Louie said.

"Mum?"  
"Yes, Huey?" She replied with a cheerful smile on her face.  
"What was that about our dad?" Huey asked.  
"Is he on your birth certificates?" She replied.  
The three boys were hesitant. "No..."  
"Then that's really all there is to say about him, isn't it?"

There was a responding silence from the back.

"Um, sure, mum." Huey finally replied. "If you say so."

"Anyway." Della smiled. "We're nearly home. Look, there's Grover's farm now."

* * *

Della turned the car into the drive of McDuck Manor and pulled up inside the garage. "Here we are; home again."

The moment she turned off the car engine, the boys burst out of the back. Della shut the car door behind her. The three grabbed her into a tight hug. "Nothing beats solid ground, huh?" She joked, hugging them back.

* * *

Mrs Beakley hurried up to meet them in the hall. "Oh, Della! Boys, you're back. Webbigail, Mister McDuck and Donald are still out."

Della was silent for a moment as the information sank in. "But... It takes two hours to get back from St Canard."  
"I know." Mrs Beakley shook her head. "The Nazis must have captured them."  
"Oh, gosh!"

"From what I've observed, the Nazis haven't been outright violent." Mrs Beakley said. "But still, I can't see their motive for arresting them."  
"Motive?" Della frowned. How did Mrs Beakley do anything overthinking things all the time? "They're bad guys, Mrs Beakley. They're just doing their thing and it's our job to stop them."

"That's very immature." Mrs Beakley crossed her arms. "Next you'll be expecting them to all have moustaches. They don't all have moustaches, Della!" She sighed. "Though you're not wrong in the barest principle. We'll need a solid plan and armament if we ever have a hope of rescuing our family members. We must find a way to do it without putting ourselves at too much risk."

"Tomato tomahto." Della said.

Mrs Beakley let out a sigh. "There's no use standing in the hall all night. I'll-."

The doorbell rang.

Mrs Beakley went and answered it.

* * *

Recognition hit Della like a ton of bricks. She stared at the vision standing in the porch light. Cropped hair, chiselled beak, heavy muscle duck in a plain shirt and jacket. Gary Goldsworth. "Son of a gun." Della stomped up to the door and took over from Mrs Beakley. "Sorry, not int-!"

Gary produced a bunch of flowers from behind his back.

"Are those..." Della stared at the dark rich red of the simple flowers. The light smell of chocolate wafted towards her. "Chocolate Cosmos..." She took the flowers from him, inhaling. "Oh, they're beautiful." Della looked up at him. "But how? Mexico's so far away and with the war on..."  
"I knew how much you liked them." He answered. "I've been growing them in my greenhouse."

"Boys." Della stepped aside and let Gary into the hall. She looked over as Huey, Dewey and Louie straightened into a line. They stood in their formal black theatre jackets and coloured bow ties. No mother could be prouder. "Gary, I'd like you to meet your sons." It was obvious to gauge their reaction to such an addressal. "Venom, Suspicion and Apathy. Huey, Dewey, Louie, this is your father: Gary Goldsworth."

They frowned up at Gary.  
Louie shoved his hands in his pockets. "What're the odds, huh? The war's on our doorstep, and here you are. On our doorstep."  
"Not to put a dampener on this joy filled reunion." Huey mentioned. "But, Mr Goldsworth. Are you working for the Nazis?"  
Gary stared at the boys. "No I'm not."

The fragment of hope in Della's heart vanished.

"Then why did you come here?" Huey asked.  
"Because you're obviously lying!" Dewey answered.  
"Boys, that's enough." Mrs Beakley said. "How about a cup of tea, Mr Goldsworth?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

Mrs Beakley closed the door. "Boys, come help me in the kitchen."  
"What?"  
"But..."  
"Boys, come help me in the kitchen." Mrs Beakley repeated in a sterner tone and marshalled them off.

* * *

Della was alone in the hall with Gary for the moment.

"I asked you to call." She held the rich red, chocolatey flowers to herself. "You never called."  
"No."  
"What was I to you?"  
"Needy." He answered.  
"Needy?" She frowned. "I asked you to do one thing. One. How is that 'needy'?"  
"Letter after letter. 'I need to see you', 'we need to talk', need, need need, Della. I got tired of it."  
"It..." She stopped. "You're preposterous." She scoffed. "So are you married now?"

"No." He answered, "I seem to attract only the needy women."  
_"I. Wasn't. Being. Needy!"_ She exclaimed. "I was being perfectly reasonable! I respected the lifestyle you wanted to lead. I just had one important thing to tell you. Something 'important', Gary. And you didn't want to hear it. It's perfectly alright when 'you' want something, but when I want something forget it." She shook her head and headed to the dining room.

* * *

Della put the chocolate cosmos into the vase full of water Mrs Beakley had put on the long wooden dining table.

The five of them had their tea in uncomfortable silence.

It was several minutes before Dewey's temper broke. "I can't take this anymore!" He stood up on his chair. "Why are you here?" He pointed at Gary across the table.  
"Have you ever heard of the 'Legend of Gizmoduck'?" Gary asked.  
"No." Dewey sat back down on his chair.

Della felt like she'd heard the word before, but couldn't remember it.

"Gizmoduck's armour was supposed to have been magical." Gary explained. "The Fuhrer found some old text that suggests it's buried in Duckburg. He's here looking for it right now."  
"That certainly is illuminating." Mrs Beakley commented from her place by the serving cart. "So this is what the Nazis are doing here and why they're holding Mr McDuck and my granddaughter hostage."

"So, where are the Nazis holding them?" Della asked.  
"I don't know."  
"Gary..." Della glared at him. "Remember who you're talking to or you'll end up in the hospital. Again."  
He hesitated, going red in the face. "They're all up at the university, but I don't know where." He breathed. "If the Nazis find out I told you I'm one dead duck."  
"I can think of a very good solution for that." Mrs Beakley declared. "Boys."

Della watched her sons spring up from the table, rope in hand. They'd tied up Gary in moments.

"B-but I told you!" Gary objected. "Oh be reasonable. Della..." He begged. "Please."

"We are being reasonable, Mister Goldsworth." Mrs Beakley stated. "This way you can't report back with any information you've gleaned from us. And for your benefit, they won't have an easy target of you."

Della stood up. "O.k, boys, let's take turns. You stand guard, and if he moves light a fire cracker under his chair. Mrs Beakley and I will go see what we can dig up on this old Gizmoduck legend."

"Yes, mum."

* * *

An hour later, Della had given up on Scrooge's archaeology notebooks.

She flopped onto the armchair in despondence. "We have to think of something else, Mrs Beakley, or else I'm going to lose my temper."  
Mrs Beakley sighed and sat down on the other armchair. "Surely it's not this impossible."

"Smarter than the smarties..." Della muttered to herself. "I mean, the two of us should be able to pull some kind of rabbit out of our hat. Even it it has spots and meows."

"Hmm." Mrs Beakley said. "It's quite possible that it's a setup."  
Della thought on that for a moment. "You mean, the Fuhrer's plan is to trick us into doing his dirty work for him? Phooey." Della lolled her head back against the back of the armchair. "What else can we try then?"

"We could try connecting to other resistance cells." Mrs Beakley suggested. "There has to be more of us. Not to mention S.H.U.S.H.. They'll be fighting back too."  
"But that means another trip through that blockade." Della shook her head. "They'll have improved their defenses by now."  
"And they'll undoubtedly have tapped our phones, if not cut them off entirely." Mrs Beakley pointed to the phone on McDuck's desk.

"If we can somehow get word to them that the Fuhrer is here." Della's breath caught as the doorbell downstairs rang. "Who could that be at this hour?"  
"They could be in need of help." Mrs Beakley said. "We can't turn them away."

* * *

Della and Mrs Beakley hurried down the stairs as the ghost of Duckworth opened the door.

"Mr Crackshell!" They both exclaimed at the frightful sight of him and raced to his side.  
Mrs Beakley turned her head to Duckworth, "Do be a good spirit and put the kettle on the boil."  
"At once." Duckworth said as they helped Fenton up the stairs.

* * *

The pair got Fenton onto the guest bed and set about with hot water, clean rags and herbs. Mrs Beakley put the paperwork he'd carried with him on the blanket chest at the base of the bed.

* * *

With their patient bandaged, clean and asleep, they stepped out of the room.

"What next?" Della was momentarily lost.  
"We have a few options at this point." Mrs Beakley said, holding the basin of soiled rags. "We can relegate your old flame to the Other Bin downstairs and we can get Duckworth to guard him. It's well past the boys' bedtime and I don't know about you but I for one wish for some sleep."  
"That's a good idea." Della said. "Duckworth?"  
Duckworth appeared.  
"Could you guard Gary, please?"  
"Very well, ma'am."

"Thank you, Duckworth." Della smiled at him. "I'm going to tuck the boys in." She glanced at Mrs Beakley. "Goodnight, Mrs Beakley."  
"Erm yes, yes, you do that, dear." Mrs Beakley frowned.  
"She'll be with Uncle Scrooge and my brother, Mrs Beakley. They'll be hoofing home for breakfast. You'll see. Everything will be fine."  
"As sure as eggs is eggs." Mrs Beakley nodded. "Miss Della, all night, I've been feeling like..."  
"Like what?"  
"Like I've forgotten something."

Della shook her head. "Could it have been dinner?"  
Mrs Beakley looked up at her. "It's not a matter of 'forgetting' to eat."  
"Mrs Beakley, you really must try." Della parented. "You have to keep your strength up."  
"I will see to it." Mrs Beakley agreed. "Thank you, dear."

Della smiled back and went to fetch her sons for bed.


	7. Escape

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 85**

**Escape**

* * *

A firm hand roused Scrooge awake. The cell was dark, damp and cold. Launchpad was still wearing the old fashioned grey driver's suit and soft hat. That meant they were still under Nazi headquarters in the New Quackmore Institute.

"L-Launchpad?" Scrooge blinked, sitting up. "What devilish hour is this?"  
"Four." Launchpad answered. "We all need to move as quiet as possible."  
"Well, I... agree with that..." Scrooge frowned.

"It's going to be alright." Donald reassured the girls coming out of their cell to join him in the corridor.

* * *

Launchpad led the party of six up the stairs with Donald holding up the rear.

Scrooge followed up the stairs behind Launchpad. He felt very odd. How had command shifted so fast from himself? Purple Nazis. A matter of a few seconds of surprise. Very well, but then why hadn't it been Donald to take lead? He was far more qualified than Launchpad for command... wasn't he? Launchpad just didn't seem himself.

* * *

When they surfaced, it was to a circle of Nazis pointing their rifles at them.

"Take them to the reeducation centre." The higher ranking purple Nazi stated.  
"Reeducation?" Scrooge said in disbelief, "how many times you want to brainwash a person?"

"I'm scared." Webbigail said in a tiny voice.  
"It's not real, lass." Scrooge said "It's poppycock, hogswill, balderdash, bunkum. A bunch of whacky nuts."

The Nazis marshalled them out of the room and up the corridor.

"The leader first."  
They took Launchpad into the room with two of the guards.  
Scrooge reconsidered the changed tactical situation. He and Donald against two armed purple Nazis. Could they retaliate safely?

* * *

The minutes were long before the guard formation changed.

As one moved towards the door, Donald rushed the other and Scrooge rushed in the front one. They were down in a scarce moment.

The door opened and Launchpad shut it behind him. "Should take them a while to fix that thing."  
Scrooge eyed him. "Well done taking 'em both on your own, lad."  
"I work alone." Launchpad thumbed to himself.  
"Launchpad..." Donald frowned and sighed. "Come on, girls, let's get out of here."

"Wait a second, Donald." Scrooge knelt down and undid the purple jacket from the Nazi. He was even more purple underneath. He put it on over his red clothes. "No more of that now." He switched his hat and gave his top hat to Webby, "Mind taking care of that for me, young Webbigail?" He asked kindly.

She beamed back at him. "Sure thing, Mr McDuck!"

* * *

Once outside, the escapees found a car. They crammed the children and Donald into the back seat, Launchpad and Scrooge in the front.

They got home without another incident.


	8. Fenton

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 86**

**Fenton**

* * *

Fenton woke. He was hungry, thirsty and every part of his body ached. He fought back the heavy thick sheet and blankets and looked down at his bandages. There was a strong smell of medicinal herbs on him, but he was clean. He looked around him at the room. It was elegant. Wood with delicate floral wallpaper. McDuck Manor.

He washed his face in the water bowl under the mirror. There was bruising around his eye and plasters over the cuts. His chest ached when he breathed too deep.

At least the Nazis weren't a bunch of superducks. They were just like every other egg in the rotten carton. Fenton spied the folded shirt on the blanket box at the end of his bed and put it on. At this point he realised his own clothes were gone. "The ladies must be washing them." He appreciated and headed out of the room.

* * *

Fenton wandered downstairs and found the kitchen.

"Mr Crackshell!" Mrs Beakley helped him to sit at the kitchen table. "You set yourself down and I'll fix you up something to fill your stomach."  
"Thank you." He said. Fenton watched as she bustled about.

"Do you know what happened to my paperwork?"  
"Oh, Mr McDuck has it." Mrs Beakley answered.  
Fenton relaxed. "That's alright then. He's in his study I take it?"

Mrs Beakley placed a cup of coffee in front of him. "Yes, but I do urge you to eat first. All that fighting you did last night. You must have had a guiding star to see you get here intact." She handed him a plate with warm scones on it. "I'm afraid we only have jam at the moment." She apologised. "But we'll be having sandwiches at lunchtime. That isn't long away."

"Thank you." He accepted the food and dug in.

* * *

After his late breakfast, Fenton headed up to Mr McDuck's study. The table was mound high with books and Mr McDuck was pouring over them with little Lena. Of all the things to do in the middle of Nazi occupation. Perhaps he was going mad in his old age.

Mr McDuck looked up to regard him. "How're you faring lad? To look at you, I'd wonder if you didn't tackle every Nazi you saw."  
"No, just the ones who saw me." Fenton chuckled. "We can't all be Superpig." His folder was on the table under a stack of books. Fenton eased himself onto the armchair, wincing as he settled down to read his file.

"Here it is, Mr McDuck," Lena exclaimed. "...A-and, just as I suspected, I can't read it." She sighed. "It's fifteenth level. I'm barely fifth."  
"Reading's one thing, lass. Understanding's another."

"What are you the two of you having trouble with?" Fenton asked curious at the seriousness in their voices.

"Ach, it's a..." Mr McDuck considered. "Erm, geology, that's what it is. A crystal with special psychokinetic powers. We want to know how to grab hold of it safely without it burning our tail feathers. Felldrake's used the crystal to brainwash everyone into thinking it's 1940 again. He's rearranged enough atoms to make an entire army of Nazis. Out of candle wax; I don't know, but they're far more than just spectres. He's got Nazis that can drive cars and fire weapons."  
Fenton gazed at McDuck. "It's 1939, sir."  
"1939 then." Mr McDuck rolled his eyes.

"How does one single crystal have the ability to resonate with so much potential energy?"  
Lena shook her head. "Let me put it another way. Think 'shelves'. On level thirteen's shelf, is 'unbalanced magic'. If you have the mana power, you can create a time pocket." She pointed at the book. "This is level fifteen. This is cosmic magic. He could've plucked those extra atoms out of space if he needed to."  
"That explains why they're purple." Mr McDuck shrugged.

"Purple?" Fenton asked. "I think I have my own problems." He continued reading the folder again.

"Fenton..." Mr McDuck frowned, "I know you wouldn't really, but why do you 'think' you made up a eugenics report?" He pointed to the folder in Fenton's hand.  
"It was a personal request." Fenton shrugged. "He thought there was something the matter with him. Yesterday he pressed me to look again, in light of the fact..." Fenton stopped. Vampires weren't a thing to talk about in front of Lena.  
"You've given him a perfectly normal write up on the fellow. All you said was he had a cold and you prescribed him rest."

Mr McDuck had read and understood the report?

"Above average, actually." Fenton tried folding his arms but his ribs ached too much. He sighed and sank back into the armchair. "I'm afraid I won't be much help in the area of defense or offense, Mr McDuck."

"No, that's for sure." Mr McDuck replied. "I wonder what it'll take us to get the world back to normal. We're all in for it if we don't get this sorted soon."

Lena came and sat down on the footstool in front of Fenton. "So that's a eugenics report, huh?" Lena shrugged, "What's so special about it? Why rescue it from the Nazis?"

"There are a lot of important things in the lab." Fenton looked back at Lena. She was asking. "But somewhere in this report it spells 'vampire'. If the Nazis were vampires, I wouldn't be here today."

Mr McDuck's face paled. "A full... Fenton, you're telling me you did a full physical on a vampire... and your conclusion was he was a duck?!"  
"Yes..." Fenton shrugged. "He had it very well buried."

"What was he like?" Lena asked. "This vampire?"  
Fenton looked back through his memory. "Smooth. I'm sure the ladies love him."  
Mr McDuck cleared his throat. "Were you bitten, lad? Can you remember?"  
"Mr McDuck!" Fenton objected. "That is-." There was a knock on the door.

Launchpad stepped in through the doorway. "Mrs Beakley, wanted me to bring you all down for lunch."

* * *

The silence over the entire length of the lunchtime table was decorum and manners. Fenton missed his mother. He was miserable at the fact that he wasn't in an able-bodied state to launch a rescue attempt on the police station.

After lunch, Fenton decided to take a walk in the secure part of the back garden. The Nazis couldn't be watching this close and he needed air.

Fenton sat down at one of the white circular picnic tables. He gazed out over the broad stretch of well-kept gardens. Fresh air.

Launchpad came out and sat down beside him.

"You know the ladies caught a spy last night?"  
"They did?" Fenton replied.  
"He's Della's old flame. He says the Nazis captured him and tortured him."  
"Why'd he come back then?"  
"The Nazis sent him looking for Gizmoduck's armour. They asked me about the same thing when I was in there."  
"I've never heard of Gizmoduck." Fenton said. "Who is he?"  
"He was some kind of mystic warrior back in the day." Launchpad answered.

"You can bet the Nazis will use whatever they find to help conquer even more of the world." Fenton honestly hoped the armour would save everyone the bother and stay in the myth category.

Launchpad was silent, looking out across the garden.

Fenton thought back to the sight of Nazis coming out of the police station. He didn't even know if his mother was still alive. "If only I were Superpig."  
"If only I were my brother." Launchpad was sullen. "Mr McDuck got me confused with him again."  
"He was playing make believe with young Lena earlier. You should've heard it. Talking about 'cosmic magic' and the Nazis being made of candle wax. Those girls just can't get enough of his fairy tales."

Launchpad leaned forward to him, a dark scowl on his face.

"What?" Launchpad's demeanour gave Fenton the frights. "What are you accusing me of?!"  
"I heard through the door. You were alone with a vampire."  
"All I did was examine him like he asked."  
"That's just what he wants you to think happened." Launchpad's gaze was like stone.

"No!" Fenton flinched. "I am not compromised and I don't like you implying I am."  
"Im-ply-ing... Yeah... that's what I'm doing." Launchpad continued to stare at him.  
"I didn't even know he was a vampire till yesterday!"  
"You were with _'that guy'?!"_ Wide eyed, Launchpad stood up. Without saying another word, he walked back inside.

Fenton closed his eyes. That was harrowing. How dare everyone think he was guilty of cavorting with vampires?!

_'Are you alright?'_ The memory echoed. The voice of the vampire. _'Are you alright?'_


	9. Heart

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 87**

**Heart**

* * *

The arrow hit the target's centre circle.

"Well done, Honker." Drake commended.  
"I feel like I've done this before." Honker commented as he stepped aside.  
"Your turn, Gosalyn." Drake said.

She took the arrow from his hands and he led her through the basics like he had with Honker.  
"Train your arm to follow your eye, that's it."  
She let the arrow go and it hit the centre near Honkers.  
"Well done, Gosalyn." He smiled in affection. "Now we move back five yards."

Drake repeated the exercise, moving them back until the two couldn't see well enough to hit the centre.

Drake stood behind Honker. "Listen to the air, Honker." He coaxed. "Feel the mathematics."  
Honker released the arrow and it hit the target.  
"Very well done, Honker. Your turn, Gosalyn."

Gosalyn took Honker's place and Drake repeated his earlier words.  
"Let it guide you."  
Gosalyn fumbled. "I can't."  
"Yes you can, Gosalyn, try again. Close your eyes and focus on the target in your mind. That's it. Now listen. Connect. Feel the wind. The air. Listen to how it travels. How it flows around the target and how it flows along the arrow's journey."  
She was still unsteady.  
He put his hand on her shoulder and closed his eyes, sharing his sense of the target with her. "Feel the mathematics."  
Gosalyn released the arrow and it hit the target.

Drake stepped back. "Well done."  
"You helped me." Gosalyn frowned up at him.  
"Try again." He handed her another arrow and stepped back.  
There was a long moment as Gosalyn focused on the target. She let the arrow go and it connected with the target.

Drake smiled in pride as he looked down at his children. He handed them each another arrow before stepping away again. "Now you see in the dark. The Nazis can't see you as easily as you can see them. To us, light is irrelevant."

* * *

After dinner, the shades of evening began to gather. Drake went upstairs to redress in his evening wear. Now he was confident that his children knew of basic combat, he could dedicate his attention to the Nazis. What havoc had the golems wrought to his city during the day? It was a great unpleasantry to consider.

Morgana came in with a book as Drake was consulting the mirror. She had looked uncomfortable all day.  
"Tell me your grievance, Morgana."  
"I know the man I married. This is a war. You may bring home an entire orphanage of children tonight and I accept that." She frowned. "But there's a difference between community service and what you did last night, Drake."  
"The Fuhrer has changed our minds but he can't change our hearts. On our hearts we must rely. Our family is whole again."  
Morgana let out the breath she was holding. "I'm glad."

She put the book down on the dresser and opened it up. "Here it is."  
"The blue shingle mansion." Drake gazed at the black and white photograph.  
"It's the president's building in the New Quackmore Institute." She said.

"That's McDuck's territory." Drake considered the picture. "Either the Fuhrer is incredibly stupid, or there's more to his plan than Nazi golems."  
"I suggest we assume the latter." Morgana offered. "That way we can be happy if it turns out that we're wrong."  
Drake chuckled.

"Will McDuck change his mind now the war is at his own doorstep?" She asked.  
"Unlikely. It's still a thought to ponder, though. If we can work together to defeat the Fuhrer, the Nazis will return back to the ether and the war is over."  
"As is my point of view. I know there's practical issues with the idea."  
"Yeah; the only one who doesn't want me dead on sight is Fenton... and that's not because he likes me; that's just his good nature. McDuck has all but said he'll never work with a vampire."

"What about a witch?"  
"I can't tell you his knowledge on the existence of white witches."  
"Seeing is believing, I'm sure. What exactly do you need from McDuck in order for any plan to work?"  
"Clear passage." Drake answered. "When his plan is, and where his men are."  
"The merest matter of timing?"  
"Timing is everything. I neither want a stake through my heart nor undermine his own efforts."

"I'll see what I can come up with while you're out." Morgana said.  
Drake turned to look to the moonlight coming in through the window. "Terror comes the night."

"Yes." She smiled back at him. "Good hunting."


	10. Gangsters

_A/n: Happy Birthday, Wendy. I'm sorry I'm a bit late with the pirate scene. It is coming, though!_

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**88**

**Gangsters and Aliens**

* * *

Reginald had caught the Nazi and was just about to get the bread off him when a feminine voice cracked over his head.  
"You there; vampire."

Vampire? He let go of the Nazi and turned to his accosters. There were four in the group, all dressed in grey suits and standing at different heights and statures. He'd think they were gangsters if three of them hadn't been women.

The Nazi ran. One of the group fired their weapon and with a zap the Nazi vanished from existence.  
"I'm not-." Reginald stared at the empty space in horror. Marigold's lunch!

"So you're the one stringing people up everywhere."

Reginald looked back to the gangsters. Their ray guns were trained on him. One wrong move and they would vaporize him too.

One of them pressed a button on a box. The sound was high pitched, shrill and blinding. He lost consciousness.

* * *

Reginald woke in a strange cell of about three by three yards. There was an uncomfortable fixing in his beak making it feel dry. He rubbed his head. Where in St Canard was he? There was a powered collar around his neck. He felt that was pretty egregious since all he'd done was cooperate with the gangsters. For all those five seconds he was awake, anyway. He certainly hadn't tried to hurt anyone.

The door slid open. With not much else to do, Reginald passed through into the next room. Two figures sat tied to chairs. One was another Nazi. What else would happen if Reginald didn't cooperate with these people? He moved to study the exit door. It was as tight as a bank vault. No way was that thing going to let him through without a lot of extraneous effort.

A voice came from behind the wall. Male, of the older persuasion. "Food has been provided."

Reginald looked at the wall. His captor could see him through it, but Reginald couldn't see him. How were they seeing? He went and tapped on the wall. It was like crystal polished to glass. Vibration was why sound was getting through but not air. Against the right amount of force, this thing would shatter.

"Vampires are as much animal as ducks. You need to eat. We'd rather you do."

They were still calling him a vampire, meaning the two people trapped in the room with him were meant to be his food. "Hihe _'hhih'_ ih a hime ho eah?" The dryness in his beak made Reginald's words incoherent. He put his hand over his beak.

"I'm sorry for your discomfort. But if we're to study you effectively we need a venom sample and that's something of a dangerous pursuit."

Venom? They were after vampire venom? Reginald stared in horror at the blank crystal wall and backed up against the opposite side. 'You will not get any such thing out of me!' He shook his head.  
"It's really unnecessary for you to be like that." The elder said.  
If they were right and he was a vampire, it meant the compound they were after was infective. Reginald was not giving these gangsters, or anyone else like them an illicit substance. He shook his head again.  
"How else are you to eat?"

"You have a reah fihahion on heeing me eah."  
"Admittedly yes. I cannot release a dangerously hungry vampire from containment."  
"Hhere'h a hhigging poinh." Reginald appreciated.

"Indeed. Formidably so."

Reginald leaned against the wall behind him, contemplating the crystal wall opposite. He needed to get around his blindness and see his captor. "Whah ih hhah wahh mahe of?!" That made no sense. He gestured to the wall.

"Are you a scientist?" The voice responded.  
"Hhah hepenhh oh who I'm hahging ho." Oh, yeah, really funny. Reginald was not impressed. This thing in his beak was not even letting him be sarcastic.  
"I'll let you out; you only have to eat first. It's the only requirement."  
"Ho you han geh ah ihhihih hubhhanhe ouh of me. Hhe way I hee ih, hhat's hwo rehuiremenhs." Reginald rubbed his head. At least he sounded like he was arguing.

"Would you prefer the other test? How long can a vampire like yourself go without sustenance?"

Reginald felt a quiet horror in the pit of his stomach and he pushed it off. If Marigold woke up to discover him gone it would be terrible for her. "You're wahhing my hime!"

"No. It's you that's wasting your time." The elder returned. "If you would simply follow my instruction you would see. This situation would be resolved quite expeditiously. Then we could 'all' continue our efforts against the Nazis."

Reginald straightened, feeling very aggrieved. "I hee. Hhen hhall I hall you 'mahher' ah a gooh peh hhouhh?" He glared at the wall.

There was no response.

Reginald didn't know what to make of that.

* * *

Reginald went and sat down against the crystal wall. He worked his mind over the fixing in his beak. It took a while, but he managed to get it off. He leaned his head back with an incredible sigh of relief and ran his tongue to moisten the roof of his mouth. When he looked at the thing he realised it was a simple guard.

Fangs or not, he couldn't have bitten anything with that thing in his mouth, let alone give his captors a venom sample. A lie, a ruse. This was some kind of experiment and they were trying to be clever. He tossed the guard down and put his hands on the collar.

"A lurker's reaction." His captor observed. "Though your hunting style and appearance are decidedly not in that category."  
"Lurker?" Reginald lowered his hands from the collar. "What's the collar for? I mean really?"

"The collar prevents you from using your allure." The elder said. "You'll find that area of your brain currently inactive."  
Reginald could hardly believe that 'he' of all people had 'allure'. What he did know was the collar was preventing him from seeing through this guy's lies. "That sounds pretty serious."  
"It is. A vampire using allure is contravening the freedom of others. We classify them as malevolent and hostile."

That was quite a charge. Reginald took his hand off the collar. Truth? Or more fiction to keep him from knowing the lies?

"And here you are. The most malevolent and hostile vampire on record."  
"I think you have me confused with someone else."  
"These are your examination results."

Reginald shook his head. "Biology only goes so far when attempting to predict behaviour patterns."

"Yes. A better way is to study past behaviour."  
"Yes, let's." Reginald replied. He wasn't guilty of vampirism.  
"We interrupted you while you were hunting. Yet, when given a choice for food of a similar value, you resist the impulse."

There was something in the elder's voice.  
"You still want me to bite him. Why?"  
There was a momentary delay. "It's as I said. A term to fulfill for your release. We can't have a hungry vampire loose in the building."  
This lack of honesty was getting frustrating. "So have you poisoned his blood then?"  
"No. If we wanted, we could have simply poisoned you while you were unconscious."

The pack of half truths this guy was feeding him was starting to annoy Reginald. Fact: he had to get out of here before Marigold woke up. Fact: They weren't letting him out without supposedly 'biting' one of the captives. He could just mock it. A lie for a lie.

Reginald stepped forwards to the Nazi. He bent down, and closed his beak over his neck. There was a moment of pressure in his head. Sudden fangs from the roof of his mouth. Blood sprang up and down his throat.

_Foreign images swirled. The Fuhrer, the New Quackmore institute, and the Nazi's activities in St Canard. _

Reginald withdrew and staggered back in shock. He really was a vampire? And what had he just experienced? The other's memories?

In amidst his horror, the exit door to the side of the room slid open.

* * *

Reginald straightened up, recomposing himself. He stepped through the door. There was an odd collection of alien equipment on the uninhibited side of the holding cell.

The elderly owl looked up at him. "My name is Agent Hooter."  
"Reginald Bushroot." He replied.  
"Come this way. The director would like to see you."

Reginald followed the short elder owl in his grey suit up out of the basement.

* * *

Upstairs was a tidy, plain office building. Hooter walked Reginald down the hall and to a small conference room.

"Director Grizlykoff, this is Reginald Bushroot."  
The tall heavy build of the bear gave him a more formidable presence than his two henchmen standing framing the door. They all wore the same grey suit. Surely the boss would wear something flashy like Negaduck did?

"So pleased I am to be meeting you." Grizlykoff said. "Sorry for elaborate ruse. Is only way we could learn truth."  
"Truth? You're the most devious and underhanded people I've ever met." Reginald turned to leave.  
"Mr Bushroot. You are wanting truth. We can give."  
Reginald stopped and turned back around to Grizlykoff. "Really?"  
"Gosser; remove that collar from him."

Director Grizlykoff's last words had a harsh edge to them. The flunkies shoved Reginald down into the guest chair. There was a tiny whirring behind him and the collar came loose.

A sudden flood of emotion rushed into his head. Reginald hid his face in his hands.

Suffering. Needing. Struggling. Fight. Loss. Desperation. Grief.

"You said it has 'area of effect'?" Grizlykoff asked.  
"Yes, sir." Hooter said. "He is also a discretionary biter."  
Reginald looked up and turned to fix his eyes on the owl. "Why are you more afraid that I can control myself? Isn't it better than me being a wild animal?"  
"It means you hunt for sport. It makes your feeding pattern unpredictable."

Grizlykoff unrolled a large map across the desk. "We have intercepted several Nazi transmissions from Duckburg."

Reginald gazed at the map of Duckburg. He took the king chess piece and placed it. "The Fuhrer is in the presidential building at the New Quackmore Institute."  
"You know the place?" Hooter asked.  
Reginald nodded. "We have inter-campus social events every year. Sorry, I don't know anything else about the Nazis over there. It was just this building." He pointed to the chess piece. "This guy was working in a facility over on east side."  
"We know. That is where we caught him."  
Reginald shrugged. "There's nothing else."

"We are grateful for your assistance."

Reginald stood up, feeling a bit sour. "In that case I'd appreciate your help in finding me some food to replace what your agent vaporized."  
"But you've eaten." Hooter said.  
Reginald folded his arms. "He had a loaf of bread on him. With the university closed, that's bread I can't afford to buy."

"We give you job."

"The most hostile, malevolent vampire on your record?"

"Ya." Grizlykoff said. "Fact remains you are first vampire we study who cannot control allure. Is puzzle yes, Agent Hooter?"  
Reginald swallowed.  
"Yes, sir." Hooter replied. "And one can't be held accountable for what they can't control."  
"This is how you work." Grizlykoff said. "We will find way to adapt."  
"That's very kind of you."

"The war with Insectians leave S.H.U.S.H. very short of staff, now we have war with Nazis. We are in need for new recruits and you would make excellent one with very little training."  
Reginald blushed. "Well, that's very nice of you to say."  
"I look forward to working with you further. For now, Agent Hooter will see to replacing the bread that was lost."  
"Yes, sir."

* * *

Agent Hooter led Reginald to the other side of the building. It was a small cafeteria with a few chairs and a couple tables. From out of the lead lined fridge, Hooter presented him with a wrapped paper package.

"Thank you, this doesn't belong to anyone, does it?"

"No. We have an auxiliary staff who volunteer a small number of sandwiches every day. Lest the active staff are too busy on their cases and forget." He looked at the brown packet in Reginald's hands. "This is what you were hunting that Nazi for?"

"Yes." Reginald answered. "I found a little girl in one of the Nazi facilities. Maybe you guys can help me find her parents?"  
"Which facility?"  
"Near the bank on Quill street."  
Hooter's face fell. "If she was in there, it means her parents are probably dead."  
"Oh. Well, I guess I'm her parent now then."  
"The sooner you get back to her, the better. I'll give you a lift."


	11. Gypsies

_A/n: Ah, no, I picked an adverb for a name! _

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 89**

**Gypsies**

* * *

The breakfast session at McDuck manner was solemn.

"So, Launchpad..." Scrooge was tentative. "You find the 'cat' you were after last night?"  
"No." Launchpad shook his head. "-."

There was a knock on the front door.

"It knows where the food is, though." Launchpad looked over at Fenton. "They love playing with their food."

Mrs Beakley came into the room. "Mr McDuck. There are some... gypsies at the door. Selling odds and ends from out of their wagon."  
"Mrs Beakley, I'm not-."  
"They may know about the magic you've been after."

Scrooge snapped his beak shut and dropped his serviette onto his plate. "Aye, I'm in." He said.

Lena followed.

* * *

Out the front door in the drive was a colourful horse-drawn caravan. A woman with silver hair in a bun was rubbing down the horse. Two children were playing basic magic tricks at a small folding picnic table.

"That wasn't exactly the magic I was looking for." Scrooge looked at the little girl harder. Red hair, green eyes. Wasn't that the little girl Drake Mallard said he was tutoring?

"Magic?" The duck peered out from behind the cart. He was tall and thin, dressed in a loose white tunic, a purple vest and belt, black tights. He had black unkempt hair. "Dally Davenduck." He shook Scrooge's hand.

"Scrooge McDuck."  
"What sort of magic, m'lord? Potion, incantation...?"  
"Cosmic." Lena said, stepping out from behind Scrooge.  
"Whoa, hold up, little lady, you're talking fifteenth level magic there." Dally said.  
"Then you know something about it." Lena returned.  
"Yes." Dally answered. "And about the sort that even considers using it." He eyed Lena. "It's not good for you."  
"Especially when it's someone else using it." Lena folded her arms. "Know anything about De Mentis Oculo?"

"That sounds like a kind of grasshopper." The little girl at the table giggled.  
"The preying mantis." The boy said.  
"That's the one. You really are clever, Honker."

"My children: Honker and Gosalyn." There was a pride in Dally's voice as he introduced them. Then he turned to rifle through a chest full of books.

"How do you do?" Gosalyn curtsied to Scrooge. Honker bowed.

"Erm, how do you do?" Scrooge smiled back at them, noticing Launchpad coming out of the house to join them.

He turned back to Dally. "Was it a difficult journey coming from St Canard?"

"Not particularly." The gypsy answered. "Broke the shafts on a couple of arrows at the mouth, though. Had to go fish out the heads. But waste not want not." He pulled out a book and flicked the pages. "Know every page, I do." He handed the book to Lena, "Here you go."

Lena glanced over the page. "Oh, no... It just tells you what it is again."

Dally took the book back, rereading the page with a frown. "What else do you need it to say?"  
"How to handle the amulet safely." She said.  
"W..." Dally paused. "What level are you at?"  
"I'm... not really at a level." Lena admitted. "I just know stuff. Like glamours."  
"You're wanting to learn level 5." He pulled out another book. "These are your defence spells. Counterspell formulas, shield mani-."

"Y'know anything about local legends?" Launchpad interrupted.  
"Sure." Dally said. "What one?"  
"You heard of the Legend of Gizmoduck?"

Scrooge blinked. It was the Nazis that were wanting Gizmoduck. Why was Launchpad bringing him up?

_"From o'er't rooftops into the fray,_  
_Came Gizmoduck to save the day._  
_His armour, forged of purest white,_  
_T'would carry him through the hardest fight."_

"Y'know any more?" Launchpad asked. "Where he hid his armour?"

_"Anon he fought, his courage bared_  
_Angelic heart, his bested spared._  
_Upon the hour his battles won,_  
_He cast his armour into the sun."_

"Where'd you learn that?!" Scrooge exclaimed.

"It's just something I know. My family's lived in these parts a good four hundred years a' more. Gizmoduck-."  
"What century?"

"There's no age on a nursery rhyme, Mr McDee." Launchpad said.  
"Y'don't know coz it was never there! It popped into your head with some wily convenience."  
Dally closed the book box and leaned over the lid. "As nursery rhymes are wont to do when you have children to put to bed of a night."

Scrooge fumbled against his temper. "You have a point, I suppose."

"Into the sun." Launchpad frowned. "Not a lot of options to where that is, or getting there."

"There's nothing to say it isn't all an allegory." Fenton stated from behind. "Gizmoduck the myth."  
"Gizmoduck the mass hallucination. The entire crew of the RSS Audubon saw him back in 1691." Dally said.  
"1691. More like 1991." Scrooge said. "It's a mass hallucination that he doesn't exist now."  
"Why throw away his armour?" Fenton asked. "Marking the end of the age of chivalry?"

"Are you liking that book, miss?" Dally asked.  
"Well I'm not going to say I don't." Lena put in. "But we still need to get the amulet off the theurgist."  
"You two aren't still going on about that magic nonsense?" Fenton asked.

Scrooge knew Donald, Launchpad and Fenton believed he was losing his marbles. The only thing Scrooge knew he was in danger of losing was his temper.

"And you two carrying on about a nursery rhyme makes more sense?" Scrooge jibed back. "What are you thinking you can do? Go on an expedition in full view of the patrols? You know what good mousing around does you; you've only to look at Fenton. If you take my advice you'll have the good sense to give up on the Gizmoduck matter." He pointed his cane at Fenton. "We've got a bigger problem than Nazis if you can possibly get your heads around the idea." He turned back to Dally. "Y'say you know magic, Davenduck. Could you teach Lena how to pick up the amulet without causing any more strife?"

"You want my personal services, m'lord, you'll have to be willing to pay for it. Fifty dollars to teach Lena, up front, and if there's anything else you be wanting from me it's ten dollars a day."  
"That's outrageous!" Scrooge said. "No employer would ever pay that much in this day and age."  
"The Fuhrer will." Dally said. "He'll pay top price for some of the curios I've picked up."  
"That's no way to make an earnest dollar, Davenduck." Scrooge said. "Anything he buys it'll only be to get more power for himself."

"When we're done here, we're off to New Quackmore." Dally ended with definition.

Scrooge glanced over at Dally's two children. They were entertaining his nephews with their magic show. What did Dally actually want?

"Fifty dollars to teach Lena, but only ten dollars up front. Your full on-call services, day 'and' night, for five dollars a day plus food and board for free." Scrooge called it.

"My... _'full'_ services, sir?"

"Aye, you know more than you're letting on. And the road's not a safe place for your little ones. They'll be safer here at the manor. You won't buy their safety from the Fuhrer. No matter what deal you strike with him. You'll always be at the mercy of those patrollers and the guards at the blockades."

Dally thought for a very long minute.

* * *

"You've no need to sell out to the Fuhrer just to make ends meet."

Dally didn't answer.

"What could be fairer than that, Davenduck?"  
"If you guarantee we won't be put upon while on your property, Mr McDuck. Then you have my loyalty."  
"Deal." Scrooge held out his hand and Dally shook back.

Now Scrooge had an able body working for him that didn't think he was a loon. Progress could begin at last.


	12. Shield

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 90**

**Shield**

* * *

Drake regarded the modern trappings of McDuck's guest bedroom. What on earth was he doing? He looked in the mirror at his wife's reflection. "It's clear to it we've gone mad, Morgana. We had the information we needed. We should have just left."

She shrugged. "You've been wanting to ally with McDuck for a while now."

"Was it worth it, though? I've given up my one chance to get the Fuhrer. Calisota remains occupied... and it's my fault!" Drake rubbed his face. "Why'd you agree with me?"

"Because something created the Nazis and now there's talk of the Mind's Eye amulet. It makes sense that the Fuhrer has that amulet. Nothing we have would interest him and our plan would stall at the door. At least now we have a shadow to stand in, as you say."

Drake sighed, looking down at the bowl of water. "True. We don't know what McDuck's planning. It could be exactly what-." He stopped, hearing heartbeats and dainty steps up the hall. His reflection turned to normal and Drake went to the door.

The little girl in pink looked up at him in surprise. "Hi, I'm Webby." She smiled, handing him the clean linen.

"Thank you." He smiled down at her, "You're just the same age as my children. I hope you'll have fun playing together."

Webby smiled back at him. It seemed a bit forced, "Uh, yeah, ha ha, sure."  
Drake paused. She seemed nervous. "Is there something the matter?"  
"Oh, it's nothing, really... Are you like a warlock or more like a sorcerer?"

"Wit-wizard." Drake stumbled. "If I were a woman, I'd be a witch. I know enough to do with."  
"Aren't witches evil?"  
"Everyone has a bad day now and then." Drake responded. "Even little girls called Webby."

Webby smiled back. Drake joined her down the hall.

* * *

Teaching Lena was first on his list of to-dos. Level 5 was about levelling up on defensive magic. He started off by making a basic presentation on the table. Drake was aware of adults watching from a distance.

"When one looks at nature, we find four elements. Fire." He picked up the candle. "Water." He tapped the full goblet. "Earth." He pointed to the goblet with the rock sitting on it. "And air." He lifted up the empty goblet and turned it upside down.

"But the world isn't that simple." He held up the apple. "An apple is solid like earth, but when you bite into it, there's juice. Water. How is it possible that clothes can survive being washed and hung out to dry but yet burn in the fire? How is it possible that the rock stays whole through both fire and water? Why? And all these questions and answers brings the fifth element to the table. The mind." He picked up the apple. "Every spell is some combination of these five elements."

"Now we look at defensive magic. If a rock is coming your way, you dodge it, and let the air pass it by or block it with a shield of stone or wood. If it's water, you take cover under the roof of the house or behind an umbrella shield. If fire." He lifted up the candle. "You use water or earth to smother it. To defend yourself, you need to know the type of magic you're defending against. The type, not the details. If you're successful at defending yourself, you won't get hit and those details won't even matter to you." He lifted the water goblet. "The goblet protects the table from the potion. Summon this simple shield, you can defeat a level eleven sorcerer."

"A theurgist's mastered all five elements." Lena stated. "You'd need to cast all five shields at once."  
"There's your answer." Drake smiled at her  
"That's tough." Lena said  
"It's practice. Let's start with making an earth shield."

Drake went to the wagon and grabbed the shield from the wall.

"This is probably more relatable than talking about goblets."  
"A little bit." Lena smiled at him. "But I get it."

* * *

With some work, Drake was able to help Lena harness earth energy. Lena was able to build up a solid earth shield before it crumbled away with her exhaustion. The boys and Webby stared at her in amazement. Drake bid them to go for morning tea so Lena could recover.

* * *

"I want to learn how to do that, dad." Gosalyn declared.  
Drake smiled at her. "You need to learn more about dirt, Gosalyn."  
"I get it on me all the time; I'm practically an expert."  
Drake chuckled. "If you say so." He held his hand out to her.

"This time, instead of the air, we think of the earth at out feet. Sense it. Summon it, use-yes."  
For a moment Gosalyn had brought up a curtain of dirt that then dropped to the ground in a scatter.  
"Hmm." Gosalyn studied the remains of her wall. "I can't say that makes me feel very secure."  
Drake chuckled. "You've still got the principle, Gosalyn."

He stepped over to Honker. "When we look to the ground, we appreciate the tiny parts that make it up. Every grain, every fragment of mineral and rock."  
With a little help, Honker raised a cascade of earth. "Wow." Honker breathed. "There's something else to make it solid."

"Thermionic intervention, maybe?" Fenton's voice broke in from behind.

Drake turned back to Fenton. This was the most discerning of McDuck's wingers. "Some interest have you, Mr Crackshell?"

Gosalyn and Honker ran off.

Fenton considered him. "Science has yet to unravel the inner workings of the brain. What you're teaching here is telekinesis."  
Drake raised an eyebrow. "If you're accusing me of teaching my children a shorthand version of Lena's training you'd be right."

Scrooge stepped up. "So it takes five different shields to block any magic from a theurgist?"  
"Yes."  
"Lena's exhausted just in doing one."  
"It takes practice to build your mana pool, m'lord. It's the first time she's ever cared enough about learning."  
Scrooge sighed. "You do what you can. How did you come by that shield?"

"I always go to the same blacksmith."  
"It's an interesting crest."  
"It's a decoration." Drake shrugged. "It's always there."  
"Ah, well, I suppose..."

Drake took the goblets into the wagon.

"How can I be of service, Mr McDuck?" He smiled at Scrooge.

"Fenton had a rough time of it the other night. I'd like you to go over our old medicine supplies and work on modernising it, or druid-ising it, whichever's the one. And I'd like you to look over Fenton."  
"Sir-." Fenton said.  
"The sooner you're fighting fit, Fenton, the sooner you're 'into the fray' again."

"I'll fix you up as good as new, Fenton." Drake promised and immediately went in to grab his medicine kit.  
"Good." Scrooge said. "That'll leave me to worry about other things for the moment. Maybe we'll even get ahead of this game."

"Something else the matter, sir?" Drake asked as he put the bag on the picnic table. "Restocking's not a large job. Maybe I can go into town for supplies or sum'at?"

"There's been a real botherin' about Gizmoduck. I don't know why." Scrooge said.

"It gives people hope, sir." Fenton said with a verbal shrug. "You doing this worries me a smidge, Davenduck."

"I know exactly what I'm doing." Drake insisted and Fenton sat on the chair.

"What do you think of the Gizmoduck interest, Dally?" Scrooge asked.  
"Gizmoduck was the hero of Duckburg." Drake answered. "The very idea he might one day return brings hope. I wouldn't fault anyone's interest."

"Except the Fuhrer. The Fuhrer would love to take that hope away." Scrooge walked off, thoughtful, brooding.

"With a bit of modern science know-how, I could probably come up with a similar idea." Fenton considered as Drake redressed his bandages. "I've not really thought of an armour suit before, but it should be theoretically possible if I had the supplies-." Fenton flinched as Drake undid the chest brace. "It's a broken rib, we d-."

"Two, broken ribs." Drake focused his mind on the breaks, bringing the parts in together again. "There you are..." He cooed. "Sorry, you were saying?"  
"I..."  
Drake continued to redress his injuries.  
"Wh-what are you doing to me?"  
"I promised to fix you as good as new." Drake soothed. "Am I not to be as good as my word?"  
"I'm sure he didn't take that lit...literally."  
Drake redressed the bandage over Fenton's eye.  
Finished, Drake lifted his fingers away.

Fenton sighed in the chair. "It's you. I know it's you."

"Am I so memorable?" Drake replied in quiet mirth.  
"I must admit 'me' being the patient is new."  
"I'm only too happy to help." Drake eased. "Or rather, 'the pleasure is all mine'."  
"I-I went back over the report. There wasn't a single hint."  
"I'm not bothered." Drake shrugged. "I was only bothered that you thought I'd betray you."

"The way you're betraying McDuck right now."  
Drake frowned. "It's a daily deal for services. This time tomorrow I may be in New Quackmore. Such is the value of money."  
Fenton stood up looking at him. "Why price yourself up like that then?"

"Because I though it would drive him off and allow me to leave without drawing any suspicion." Drake replied. "A few days ago he turned me down at two fifty a day, Fenton." Drake frowned. "Now he's paying me double that; he must be serious."

"No. He just doesn't realise you're a vampire."

"Then he'll figure it out before he renews the daily contract and I'll be off to New Quackmore." Drake shrugged.  
"You believe what McDuck says about all this being bigger than Nazis?"  
"Every word." Drake answered.


	13. The Pirates of Calisota

_A/n:Happy belated birthday, Wendy._

* * *

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 91**

**The Pirates of Calisota**

* * *

Drake heard the screams and raced out the house to the back. A large winged monstrosity has snatched up Lena and was flying off.

"She's too high!" Gosalyn said.

Drake took the bow and arrow from her and aimed it, released. The arrow hit the beast's shoulder and Drake cast a wall of air to catch Lena out of her fall.

The creature flew off.

"Its not even safe out here." Gosalyn grumbled.  
Drake went over to Lena. "Alright, Lena?"  
She nodded. "That was close."

"Now they have wings! That is royally unfair." Louie complained.  
"Did you know that Gizmoduck could fly?" Drake sat down on a picnic chair, watching the children come around to listen to him.

* * *

_It was the year of his majesty 1691. The RSS Audubon was under the command of Captain "_Dark Doubloon_". It was on sail through the summer midnight waters off the coast of Calisota._

_"There she be, captain!" Gosyn in the crows nest called down. "Blackbeak's ship, the Blue Dragon."  
__"Excellent news." Doubloon looked to his crew. "We'll have them by dawn. Mr Quack, you wait the hour a'fore closing the gap. With me, boys, to the longboat."_

_At this point you might be wondering how a small boat of four ducks could overcome a ship of pirates armed to the teeth. So would the buccaneers when they woke the next morning; locked in the brig with not so much as a dagger between them. Such nights marked the highlight of Dark Doubloon's career._

* * *

_The Audubon came alongside the Blue Dragon. Dark Doubloon ordered his crew to take Blackbeak and his first mate across to Audubon's brig. Catching those with such hardened hearts was what Audubon was about. For the crew it was business as usual._

_Hew the quartermaster and Lou the cabin boy came up from below deck with news._

_"Blackbeak take prisoners? But that's unheard of." Dark Doubloon said._

_Still it was true, and second hand prisoners spelt trouble for Dark Doubloon. He was the terror of the seven seas; a pirate of pirates. His reputation cast a shadow some ten years long. But that reputation could all fall apart if word got around that he and his crew were 'soft'._

_"We have Blackbeak and the Blue Dragon. Let's about for St Canard."  
__"Captain, that's weeks away." Hew said. "We can't leave them to rot down there."  
__"Aye. Do they know who's taken the ship?"  
__"Possibly..." Lou gulped. He was turning red in the face.  
__"They do or they don't, lad?"  
__"Sorry, captain. It... sort of 'slipped'."  
__"You' got a loose tongue, Lou."  
__"Aye, captain."  
__"A'right. So what do they have to say for 'emselves?"  
__"They were passengers on the Merry Daintree." Lou said._

_**"All hands hoay!"** Dark Doubloon called. "Your captain's gotta have a word with ye all."_

* * *

_Dark Doubloon looked down from the quarterdeck to his crew gathered on the main decks._

_"I hate cutting our celebrations short, boys, but we got landlubbers aboard. We don't normally got company, and you know your cap'n ain't good for it."  
__There was a laugh in the back._

_"Till we offload our guests at St Canard, both cap'n cabins stay locked."  
__There was a murmur in the crowd.  
__"Aye, ye all know what that means." He gazed around at the faces of his loyal crew. "It means nobody gets promoted. Sorry Mr Duck; next time."  
__There was a mild cursing in the middle of the crowd.  
__"Till we set ashore, I'm plain ol' First Mate Liam Malady to you. Back to your stations, lads. Let's get ourselves home!"_

* * *

_So decided, Dark Doubloon went to his captain's cabin and put his decorated jacket and hat away in his lock chest. Liam Malady took the keys away with him on his belt._

_On his way with Hew and Lou down to the brig of the Blue Dragon, Liam locked Blackbeak's cabin._

_Liam raised his lantern to cast light on the two faces in the gloom. "By his majesty!" For what his reckoning these were the strangest of creatures to meet his eyes in several months. "Bring some grub to the officers cabin for 'em, Mr Hew." He hooked the lantern on the rafter and used the padlock key from the bunch on his belt to set them free of the manacles._

* * *

_Up out of the hold and darkness, Liam led the landlubbers. The officers cabin was straight across the ladder from the locked captain's cabin._

_Hew brought in water and food from the stores. In the light, Liam's guests looked far more normal. A duck and a stork in peasant clothes._

_"I be First Mate Liam Malady."  
__"I'm Gyron. This is my apprentice, Mario."  
__"Aye. Pleased to make your acquaintance an all. Captain Doubloon says he don't got no quarrel with you. So I says to you: keep your beaks clean and you'll stay free birds."_

_"I say." Gyron said. "It's very good of him to give us a second chance like this."  
__"Blackbeak don't spare no one. The way the cap'n figures it, you two must have some pretty big secrets to still be alive. __We got half a crew on board the Blue Dragon so there's plenty o' work to keep you from going idle. Talk to Hew here, and for above deck work talk to Deut'ro."_

_And that was all for the two strangers and everything turned out fine. Or so Liam wished._

* * *

_The next Liam heard of the landlubbers was when Vander the head cook tossed Gyron out of the galley. Being his own first mate, Liam shouldered the job of investigating and went down._

_Vander was cleaning up the mess with Lou.  
__"What happened in here, Vander?"  
__Vander let of a string of meaningless curses.  
_

_"You tell me, Lou." Liam said.  
__"I swear, Mr Malady." Lou said. "We've got witches aboard."  
__"Think what you're saying, boy! People dance the hempen jig for a charge like that."  
__"What am I supposed to say then?" An exasperated Lou said. "Do I call 'em fairies? Yokai?"  
__Liam sighed. "Whatever they are they must be refugees. Go easy on 'em. That's an order. We all know what it's like being at the wrong end of a cutlass."_

* * *

_It was evening and Liam was out with his sextant, taking readings. _

_Someone came past him, mopping the deck.  
__"A bit late for that, lad." Liam looked to see who it was.  
__"Oh, uh, sorry sir." Mario said.  
__"How're ye faring, lad?"  
_

_"It's impossible to keep the deck clean. Even at night."  
__"It's not the point of keeping it clean, lad. It's the point of not keeping it dirty."  
__Mario scratched his head. "...You're up late, sir."_

_"I'm always up late on a cloudless night." Liam said. "Making sure we stay our course."  
__"To Calisota." Mario said.  
__"You were on the Merry Daintree, a'fore Blackbeak's raid, weren't ye'?"  
__"Yes, sir. We were heading to North Province."  
__"Sorry about that an' all."  
__"At least we're not ending up where we started."  
__"For sure."_

_Mario joined him in looking out on the horizon. "What's that tool you're using?"  
__"It's a sextant." Liam showed him. "You measure distance with it."  
__Mario studied it. "It's ingenious."  
__"It be that indeed." Liam said. _

_"What's on your mind, lad?"  
__"It's been days. I haven't seen the captain yet."  
__"Aye, so that's the real reason you're up." Liam chuckled. "If the cap'n don't come out, it's his business, lad."  
__"He has to talk to his first mate, though."  
__"Sure, I sees him plenty. Why?"  
__"Because he's the 'Dark Doubloon'."  
__"Aye?"  
__"If you serve him that makes you pirates."  
__"I suppose it does." Liam chuckled. "You're a right serious one, lad."_

"Ship to starboard!"

_Liam turned to the right. He pulled out his spy glass and looked out at the apparition rising up above the horizon. "Paddywhack's flag! I knew that pernicious poltergeist would pop up sometime."  
__"Who's Paddywhack?" Mario asked.  
__"We' got no time for stories, lad!" Liam went and rang the wake up bell. **"All hands hoay!"**_

_"Hoist the red flag! Trim the sails, fall back behind the Audubon." He crossed over to port side and called out to Quack. **"Let's flank 'em, Mr Quack!"**_

_"Aye aye, sir! We'll give 'em no quarter!"_

_"What should I do?" Mario fretted.  
__"Get below deck and guard the prisoners. If Blackbeak's men get out we're done for." Liam headed to the wheel. "Break out the blessed cannonballs, Mr Duck! Let's scuttle that ship! Steel your stomachs, lads. We' been here before."_

_Over the wheel, Liam stared out at the sight of the ghost ship coming headlong towards them. __What horrors would Paddywhack make them endure this time?_

* * *

_They flanked the ghost ship. "Fire at will!"_

_Amidst the noise of loud cannons the men screamed. A party of drowned horrors boarded the Blue Dragon.  
__"Keep it together, lads!" Liam ordered. "Don't let that son of a biscuit eater run a rig with you!"_

_Paddywhack, dressed in ghostly black and white boarded the Blue Dragon to fight with Liam.  
__"There's something different about you. You've done something. Is it your hair?"  
__"I'll have you this time, Paddywhack."  
__They spun around, fighting amidst the other apparitions.  
__"Oh, wait, I know. It's your name. Why? Is it a secret that you're the Dark Doubloon?"  
__"How many times have we bested you, Paddywhack?"  
__"None, since I'm still here."  
__"Aye, well so are we."  
__"So the dance continues. And it's a beautiful thing."_

_"You know what beauty is? I'll tell you what beauty is." Liam dashed to port-side and pointed to Paddywhack's ship. "Feast your eyes on this."_

_The blessed cannonballs had ripped the ghost ship apart. It was beginning to sink into the sea and the ether.  
__"No...!"  
__"Ya-har!" Liam smiled with wicked satisfaction. "Now it's your turn."  
__"No. It's your turn!" Paddywhack jumped out of the fight and up onto the rigging._

_There was a roar of voices from deep below deck. Blackduck's crew were free._

* * *

_Liam glared deathly at Paddywhack, pointing his cutlass at him. "You're dead, Paddywhack, and I'm here to see you through to the netherworld."_

_The door burst open and out came Blackbeak's crew from the Blue Dragon's hold.  
__"I'm sorry." Liam stood his ground, watching them come up through the hatch. "Mr Duck." He took a steady breath. "-."_

_There was a noise rising up from below like that of a pack of wild panthers. What it was, Liam didn't know. It burst through the door behind the freed pirates. It glistened in the moonlight like a mirror. It stood upright like a duck._

_"Shiver me timbers!" Liam jumped up the Jacob's ladder, pointing his cutlass behind the pirates. "__What in his majesty's name is that?" __A knight in armour?_

_"It's the Gizmoduck!"  
Blackbeak's crew took one look at Gizmoduck and jumped overboard in fear. __They'd rather be shark bait than deal with Gizmoduck.  
"Steady, men!" Liam jumped down. "We've got this."_

_"No no no!" Paddywhack complained.  
__"I'll have thee, demon!" Gyron called from the forecastle.  
__If that was Gyron, the one wearing the white armour was Mario.  
__"Wait, wait!" Addled, Paddywhack looked from fore to aft and back._

* * *

_Liam let __Paddywhack to __the landlubbers. He swung back over to the deck of the Audubon on a free rope._

_"I'm taking you in, you old sea dog!" He challenged Blackbeak, jumping into the centre of the main deck. With him here, Mr Quack was free to help Liam's crew fight Blackbeak's first mate. "Your crew may make their peace with the fishes, Blackbeak, but you're going to trial or I'm not the Dark Doubloon!"_

_The sound of swords clashing filled the air._

* * *

_In the middle of the battle, the white armour came flying across the gap between the ships._

_"You let 'em out?!" Blackbeak turned to Liam. "You're a darn fool, Doubloon!"  
__"The trouble's all yours, Blackbeak."  
_

_Liam stepped back as the white knight landed on the deck between them._

_"Look behind you, Gizmoduck!" Blackbeak glared stepping backwards. "That's the infamous Dark Doubloon. Terror of the seven seas."  
__"Right there! Now, boys!" Liam said._

_The net dropped over Blackbeak._

_Mr Quack was tying up Blackbeak's first mate. The battle was done.  
__"The Audubon's yours again, Mr Quack."  
__"Aye, sir."_

* * *

_Liam climbed up the rigging and swung on a rope back to the Blue Dragon._

_"Where's Paddywhack?"  
__"We've secured him in here." Gyron showed him a toy jack-in-the-box._

_The thing jumped in his hands._

_Liam recoiled. "Boys, get some chains on that thing and toss it over the side!"  
"Aye aye, sir!" Deut'ro said._

* * *

_The white knight flew back over._

_"Gizmoduck." Liam repeated the name. "I want to thank you two for helping us out of this fix."  
__"You're the Dark Doubloon."  
__"Aye aye." Liam answered. "Captain of crew, pirate of pirates. Now to fish any survivors out of the water and put them back in the hold."  
__"I'll get them." Gizmoduck said. "They jumped because of me."  
__"Aye, you be terrifying for sure, lad. Glad to have you aboard." Liam chuckled. "Bring down that flag, Gosyn."  
__"Aye aye, sir."_

_The rest of the journey was uneventful. The two ships came to port and that was the last Liam Malady ever saw of Gizmoduck. Blackbeak and his crew got to stand at trial. The crew of the Audubon enjoyed a period of shore leave before they embarked on another mission."_

* * *

"Thanks for the great story, Mr Davenduck!"  
"That was great."  
A much happier set of kids ran off to play.


	14. Questions

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 92**

**Questions**

* * *

Scrooge McDuck stepped out onto the back patio as the children passed him by into the safety of the house. He looked concerned.

"M'lord?" Drake came up to him.

"That blasted beast flew straight out of the Wizard of Oz and into my nightmares." McDuck said. "What's your opinion of that monstrosity?"  
"He tried to make off with Lena. Is the Fuhrer that concerned over her magic abilities?"  
"There's a thought." McDuck said. "Or Magica could have sent it. If she's in town we've got double trouble."

"There be an evil witch for sure." Morgana needed to think about that.

"Aye." McDuck agreed. "And then there's Felldrake's interest in 'digging up' Gizmoduck's suit. Why on earth could he be after that thing?"  
"It'll make it more difficult for us to defeat him." Drake said.  
"But you gotta know the magic word to do anything with it."  
"Magic word?" Drake repeated. "That would make sense. Blackbeak needed them alive to try and get the magic word out of them."  
"Ah, horse-feathers." McDuck scoffed. "Next ye'll be telling me his armour's buried in a treasure chest thirty paces from a tree marked X."  
"It wouldn't fit in anything smaller. As for the tree, Gizmoduck would've hidden it himself and he was no cartographer."

"Have you not wondered why Gizmoduck didn't beat Blackbeak the first time around? He let that ship sink."  
"Courage alone don't cut it for outsiders, m'lord." Drake answered. "We can get hung for helping if we're not careful."  
"I see." McDuck had a sharp glint in his eye. "He was no Dark Doubloon."  
"Right."

"How many generations between you and Dark Doubloon, Dally?"  
"Well, hard to say. Hard to say if he even ever existed." Drake answered. "Could all be a proper fairy tale."  
McDuck leaned on his cane. "How many generations between you and Assistant Director Justin R. Mallard of S.H.U.S.H.?"

Drake nearly choked. "How do you know about him?"

McDuck rolled his eyes. "I'm a S.H.U.S.H. agent." He pointed his cane at Drake. "Gimme your answers, laddie."  
"I'd love to, Mr McDuck. But unlike yours, my memory's been arbitrarily altered by the Occulo Mentis crystal." Drake shrugged. "Nice to know about Justin Mallard, though. I mean, in my memory he was the actual director, but-."  
"You're waffling!" McDuck glared at him. "Straighten up, lad."  
"Is there anything I can help you with, m'lord?"  
"_Stop giving me that insufferable hog-swill!_ Why make yourself up like this?"

"We had to know what you were up to." Drake said.  
"So it 'is' the two of you in there. And why're you bothering with me for? The Fuhrer's at the Institute."  
"Oh, no no. Tha-at was plan B. We ditched that ages ago. This morning, actually; when you so kindly offered us a job."  
McDuck rubbed his face. "And what's plan D?"  
"That's of no importance right now. Launchpad's gone for a walk."

"He's left? Blast it! _I told him to let that cat be!_ Follow him. Find out what he's up to and while you're about it, make sure he doesn't get hurt."  
"Aye, sir." Drake nodded. "We'll handle it."

* * *

It took next to no time for Drake to catch up with Launchpad on his flat-footed travels. Few noticed Launchpad pushing his bicycle along the street. He and his spare shadow went from door to closed door in silence. Aside from dodging Nazis there wasn't anything unusual or mysterious about Launchpad's actions. He was a country style vampire hunter. Devoted and methodical.

Launchpad stopped in front of a block of flats, listening. Drake listened too. The apartment was buzzing with purple-flavoured Nazis ransacking the place. Launchpad shouldered his knapsack and went in the front door and up the stairs.

_'Wait, no!'_ Drake followed him. _'There's only Nazis in there, Launchpad.'_ Drake tried to help but Launchpad's determination was like a wall. _'Launchpad, leave the peanut gallery, we've got more houses to-.'_

Launchpad kicked the door in. **"I'm Launchpad McQuack; let me give you a taste of Duckburg hospitality!"** He started an immediate brawl.  
_'I'm dead.'_ Drake jumped out of the shadows to help.

* * *

As the echoes of the fight faded away, Drake looked over the crowded room of unconscious Nazis. He had to hand it to Launchpad: he was good in unarmed combat.

"How did you get here?" Launchpad asked. "Aaaat the same time as me?"  
"My boss is your boss." Drake said. "Why'd you walk in on them like that? They could've given you lead poisoning."  
"No way you followed me all the way here, you must be a..." Launchpad stared at him, his expression turning stony. "You watched me; you know where I put my traps."  
"Yeah; good choices." Drake rushed the compliment. "Lucky you're not in St Canard. You'd be the patsy on so-oo many crimes."  
"You're a city vamp, nice to know where to send your dust back to!" Launchpad swung at him.  
Drake swerved. "I'm no dead hoofer like these guys!" He jumped out of the way of the next hit. "Hey, you know, we should probably find whatever they were looking for in this place while we have a chance."

"Good idea." Launchpad was still holding his guard position against Drake. "That'll distract the other guy for sure."  
"You're so deadpan, Launchpad, anyone would think you weren't being sarcastic."

They were stuck.

"It's probably under the floorboards." Drake said.  
"Can you see down there using your vampire powers?"  
"No..." Drake said. "It's just that the Nazis have already looked everywhere else in this place."  
"It's your idea." Launchpad gestured to the rug. "You look."  
"So, what?" Drake complained. "You can turn me into a dust pile and put another notch on your belt? Pfft, I don't think so."

"You were the one following me. You should do it."  
"That doesn't count; I was ordered to follow you!" Drake exclaimed. "McDuck doesn't want you getting hurt."  
"I've been doing the same thing for months. He's never worried before."  
"But there haven't been Nazis before, right?"  
"Mister McDee would never hire a vampire on purpose."  
"Well, he seemed pretty clued in when he sent me out to protect you." Drake thumbed to himself.  
"No!" Launchpad glared at him. "He knows I hate vampires."

"No offence, but I think he cares more about your life than your feelings right now. These Nazis could seriously have hurt you. You can't take chances like that."  
"I get it now. You got past him because you're a grifter."  
Drake shrugged.

"Yes, well, at least I can be thankful I'm not a scrub like you! Now do be sensible and help me clear this rug, Launchpad; I'd like to be home in time for the winter solstice. If you don't mind."

They dragged the limp bodies clear of the woven Aztec rug. They each took a corner and rolled it back. Just as Drake suspected, the floorboards were loose. Together Launchpad and he pried them away and looked into the floor space. The metal bound wooden chest was about three feet long by one wide and caked in dust, dirt and cobwebs.

"Hey, you're pretty good at this treasure hunting." Launchpad said.  
"Not really, Launchpad. The Nazis did all the hard work. Let's get this back to McDuck." Drake closed his eyes and centred his mind on McDuck's back patio.

* * *

"Whoa." Launchpad rubbed his head. "That was different."

Drake picked up the crate, his eyes on the door. "I'll get this to McD-."  
"Wait a second!" Launchpad shoved him. "You're not going in there!"  
"I have an invitation! So excuse me-."  
"Well, I'm revoking it!" Launchpad swung his fist.

Drake dodged but tripped on his other foot. He went down and the crate crashed to the paving with him.

* * *

_"What's all this noise?!"_ Bentina Beakley burst out of the back door. "I can hear you boys over the dinner cooking!"

Her presence made Launchpad stop fighting and Drake got to take a breath.

"We have six children in the house and you're the ones I hear! Can't you two at least 'try' to act like adults?" She looked at the chest. "Goodness is that a seventeenth century armada chest?"  
"Early eighteenth." Drake said. "I was just taking it in to McDuck." He glared at Launchpad and picked it up. "He's expecting me to report in."

Drake took the metal chest up into Scrooge McDuck's study. Launchpad stayed on his heels.

* * *

"What was that tiff about?" McDuck asked.

"Dally's a vampire." Launchpad came in the doorway as Drake put the chest on the rug. "He says you knew about it."  
"Aye, I know." McDuck said. "I wasn'a hatched yesterday."  
"You sent a vampire after me?"  
"He's a little eccentric, but I wouldn't call him evil. He got you home safe and sound, didn't he?"

"He's a grifter, just like the vamp that killed my brother."  
Drake flinched.  
"Launchpad..." McDuck heart rate dropped a moment and he went pale. "I... think you just need a moment to collect yourself. Go fetch Fenton."

"Sure, let you keep pallying around with this grease-ball." Launchpad said and left the room in a moody stomp.

* * *

"I told you to look after Launchpad." McDuck turned to Drake. "Not go treasure hunting. Why didn't you leave it hidden?"  
"The Nazis were swarming that place. They might've found it."  
"And now they'll swarm this place and find it here! You've made my home their number one target." McDuck glared at him.

"You can't send a vampire to protect a hunter and not expect any unfortunate side effects, Mr McDuck."  
"That's one way to describe it, Morgana." McDuck shook his head.

"We will defend this place, m'lord." Drake said.  
"I expect no less from Mallards." McDuck gave him a dark look. "And would you quit calling me that. This isn't the Dark Ages, Drake. Mr McDuck is fine."

Fenton came in through the doorway. "Yes sir?"  
"Fenton, we've found your lost treasure." McDuck gestured to the armada chest.  
"Excuse me, my-my treasure?"  
"Wait, it's his?" Drake said.  
"Try your birth-date on the lock." McDuck insisted.

Fenton cracked open the crate and his heart rate went out of kilter. "It's..."  
"Are you alright, Fenton?" Drake asked in alarm. "What is it?"  
"I'm f-..." He shut the crate. "I need to think about this."  
Drake watched Fenton pick up the box and take it out the room. Just as well he'd healed those ribs for him earlier.

"He'll be fine." McDuck said. "As fine as the rest of us when the Nazis show up on our doorstep. Who knows how long he'll take figuring out how that contraption works. In the meantime we're sitting with our tail-feathers in the wind."

"The solution is simple of course." Drake said. "We simply hide the manor from the realm of extra-perception."  
McDuck hesitated. "Erm, what do you need to do that, Morgana?"  
"Just water and some kindling. We have everything else on hand in the caravan. The manor will be magic tight by morning, Mr McDuck." Drake turned on his heel. He and Morgana both had a lot to get done.

* * *

Launchpad was waiting, slouched against the wall outside the room. "You and me need to have a talk."

Drake turned back to face him. "You knew that was Fenton's place, right?"  
"Yeah." Launchpad glared back at him. "So?"  
"I'm sorry I called you a scrub. You're not a scrub, you're-."

**"Any funny business."** Launchpad said. "Duckworth'll be showing your dust to the door."

_"You're setting a ghost on me?"_ Drake was horrified. _"I don't like ghosts!"_  
"Gee, that's too bad. Guess you'll have to try to behave yourself then." Launchpad turned and headed up the corridor.

"Oh, please. Like I had an issue with that. Launchpad,_ Launch-oh!"_ Drake turned around. _"I don't believe this."_ His feathers were prickling with the cool chill in the air. _"Back off, Duckworth!"_ He quacked. "Stop breathing down my neck. He's obviously overreacting. _I'm fine!_"  
"Obviously." The gentleman's voice echoed in the air.

Drake stormed downstairs and out the front to the caravan. _"You're breaching McDuck's contract, Duckworth!"_  
"I am at a reasonable distance, I assure you. It's just the trouble with having a field effect. There's very little I can do about it."  
"And it's your field effect that's the trouble, Duckworth."

Drake climbed into the caravan and reached into the pile of books at the end of the bunk beds. The Quackronomicon was sitting between the Boy Scouts Guide Book and the Grimworld Monster Manual.

"I hope you can understand; these are earthly concoctions." He plied out Morgana's personal spell-book. "We're calling on the natural order of things to gather the best defence McDuck Manor could have. If spectral vapours or any ectoplasm get into the brew it'll nullify the entire batch."

Drake looked up. "Here's an idea. Instead of watching me, _why not watch everyone else?_"  
"I'm only 'one' ghost. While I am able to get to places quickly, unfortunately the manor's security system is not what it used to be."  
_"Well, it's not going to improve much if you're going to be here dripping in our broth!"  
_"I'm sure we can come to some determination after dinner-."  
_"Yeah, what's on the menu? Steamed ghoul served with slime sauce?"  
_"There's no need to be rude, sir!" Duckworth said.

_"I don't eat when I'm antagonised."_ Drake pointed at his beak. "For two particular reasons."  
"How did you manage adolescence?" Duckworth asked.  
"Martial arts."

Drake started setting up the cooking station on the grass.

"Are you going to start a fire out here? We have a perfectly good kitchen."  
"A ghost in a closed environment! What's the point of even trying in that case? I just need to get the water."  
"The garden tap is by the garage. I can easily shroud the house and leave you in peace out here if that's where you prefer to be."

"I'm thrilled. Do that." Drake picked up the cauldron and headed over to the garage. "You better not cut off our kids though." He looked over at Duckworth. "It's a waste of energy fighting with you instead of the Fuhrer, Duckworth. But Morgana will send you nose diving into the Styx if we so much as lose contact with them."  
"That's understandable. I will make the allowance for young Gosalyn and Honker." Duckworth left.

"Thanks." Drake waited for the air to clear before turning on the tap. "That was a nasty backhand, Morgana; Launchpad has a reason to be upset."  
He watched the cauldron fill. "Everyone has a reason to be upset, Drake; even you about ghosts. What defines us is how we push past it... or if we let the madness consume us."  
"That's true." Drake carried the full cauldron back to the campsite and lit the fire. "Well, it's officially your turn again, Morgana."


	15. Help

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**93**

**Help**

* * *

"Spike. She'll play with you after her breakfast. Just be patient."

It was a bright, early Fall morning in Reginald Bushroot's greenhouse. His very excitable giant Venus Fly trap that he'd named 'Spike' whimpered and curled down beside Marigold.

Reginald breathed a sigh of relief and looked back at Agent Hooter. "Not to sound like Negaduck, but: 'come again'?"  
"We need you to pilot the _C.I.S.S. Condoris_."  
"I have roots, not wings. Microbiologists don't fly."  
"No, but you've dedicated your life in the pursuit of knowledge and we have every need of a person as adaptable as you. You've already shown two hunting patterns. It can't be much for you to learn a third."  
"Don't you have any 'real' pilots in S.H.U.S.H.?"  
"No." Hooter's response was flat. "As a matter of fact, we don't."

"We did have several cadets with the potential to do this job... however, that was before the National Guard appropriated them for the war effort. St Canard is a milk bottle turned upside down and left out in the sun."  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
"As our Assistant Director was fond to say: 'S.H.U.S.H. is nothing if we are not resourceful'. We need a motivated learner with your capabilities that's willing to help. The _Condoris_ is the last rabbit S.H.U.S.H. can pull out of our hat, or should I say, the harbour."

Reginald covered his beak in horror. "The harbour? That thing is still down there, my gosh!"

"Along with the bulk of our research department. They've been cleaning it up for the past month. We got the telegraph this morning: the _Condoris_ is ready to fly."  
Reginald shivered. "All that salt water."  
"We'll be going by submarine. It's a very water-tight affair."  
"From car to submarine to spaceship. I don't think plants were designed with this in mind."  
"Not that it should be a selling point, but the Condoris does boast a rather nice hydroponics bay. You can photosynthesise as much as you need."  
"Alright, I give in." Reginald sighed. The emotional echo of Hooter's doleful plea was really getting to him. "Let me ask my friend to babysit my Marigold. Then I'll come over to you and we'll have a go at this crazy idea of flying."  
"Splendid. By the end of this little adventure we should be Nazi free." Hooter left the greenhouse.

"I need to make you a coat, Marigold. We're going out today."

* * *

Mireham was a moderate suburb; not shabby, but not close enough to the city or water to attract the upper crust. The start of the suburb looked much the same as the last few suburbs. Bent bicycles and smashed cars littered the roadway. Broken walls and busted roofs were frequent. Here and there the garden was littered with glass and snapped wooden fences. As beaten as it all was, the Nazi's hadn't razed anything completely to the ground as they'd passed through.

They turned onto Knight's Way and the road was suddenly clean of shrapnel. The only debris were the fallen yellow and orange leaves cast away from the resident maples and oaks. Even the telegraph poles stood straight. There was nothing to suggest anything more than a cold snap had hit. "Number seventeen must be that blue one."

Reginald parked his Model T at the curb and got Marigold down out of the passenger seat. "Come on, Spike, you too." He let his Venus Fly Trap out. "Nice place, huh, Marigold? The conifers are so healthy."  
"Lots of leaves." Marigold said.  
"That's from the maples and oaks." He pointed over to them.  
"Trees get knots too?" She petted her hair.  
"No, it's just getting colder." Reginald knelt down. "Those were some nasty tangles but we got them out in the end."  
"They always come back."

"We'll find an answer, don't you worry." He kissed her forehead and took her hand, on up the drive to the farmhouse. Thankfully it was long because he didn't want to leave her.

"Lots of plants go to sleep in winter so they drop their leaves." He said.  
"If they sleep outside, don't they get sick and sneeze?"  
"We do, and our friends in the greenhouse. But these guys love it out here. If you want to grow big, you have to sprout in the place that's right for you."  
"I want to be big and tall and have pet lions and teach them all to say please and thank you!"  
"Lions? Well, maybe we can visit Quackers next time. He's in an apartment, though, so we couldn't stay long. You don't want to be stuck indoors all day. Little girls need sunlight too."

They stepped up to the porch and Reginald knocked on the blue door.

"I want to go home now."  
He looked down at Marigold holding his hand. "You've met Megavolt, sweetie. Just wait a moment." Spike rushed up behind them. "No, no, Spike." Reginald gestured him away. "This isn't a greenhouse. You have to stay outside."  
Spike whimpered.  
"Well, maybe Megavolt will let you in later, but you'll have to ask nicely."  
Spike nodded and went to go stand in the sun.

The blue door opened.

"O-oh, look who it i-is." Megavolt was wearing a blue shirt and yellow suspenders over his rubber jumpsuit. He rolled his eyes then gave a smile. "Come in, Reggie. Hello, Marigold." He smiled down at her. "Won't you come in and have some toast with us?"  
"No, I don't want to." Marigold frowned. "I'm full."  
"If you don't want any that's fine, but will you let us have our breakfast?"  
"Marigold?" Reginald urged.  
Marigold looked up at Megavolt. She mutely nodded.  
"Thank you." Megavolt said.

Megavolt turned and led the up the hall into the kitchen. "Wow, you guys get up early."  
"Yeah." Reginald stepped into the kitchen. Megavolt's mother was at the table finishing her breakfast. She was a thin woman with greying black wiry hair, dressed in a faded dark blue dress, a white pinafore and gloves. She stood up to greet them.

"Er, ma, this is Doctor Reginald Bushroot. He was working at the university before it closed down."  
"Hello, Mrs Sputterspark."

"It's so nice to meet one of my son's friends." She smiled. "He didn't want to go to university, but he could've if he'd wanted." She bent a little to address Marigold. "Hello there. That's a lovely dress."  
"This is Marigold." Reginald introduced her. "She's my daughter."

["O.k., that makes sense."] Megavolt muttered.

"Hello, little Marigold." Sylvia said. "That's a cute teddy bear. What's his name?"  
Marigold showed Sylvia. "Her name's Madeline. Madeline's a girl."  
"Marigold and Madeline. You've got such pretty names. Mine's Sylvia." She went and sat back down to her burnt toast.

"Your house is pretty swell, Sylvia. Megavolt." Reginald said.  
Marigold climbed up on a chair. "It smells funny."  
"That's just the toast, sweetie." Reginald said.  
"Please call me Elmo." Megavolt furrowed his brow. "I'm Elmo. Elmo Sputterspark. Negaduck just calls me 'Megavolt' to wind me up."  
"O.k., 'Elmo'." Reginald smiled at him.  
Elmo sat down with his fruit juice. "You guys are out early."  
"Uh, yeah..." Reginald felt his chlorophyll rushing to his cheeks. "I've got a new job."

"I'm so happy for you. What kind?" Sylvia asked. "Sit, Reynold-."  
"Reggie. It's Reggie."  
"Re-gee. Gee, gee, gee. O.k., I think I got it."  
Reginald sat down in slight discomfort on the wooden chair next to Marigold. She was still not thrilled to be here.

"Um, it's a 'commission' sort of job. This first one is, well, I don't want Marigold alone, this one's, well it's a bit strange. I know you're good people."  
"What sort of strange?" Sylvia frowned. "I know a few types. Maybe I can help."  
"Oh." Elmo slapped his head. "Ma works as a lab technician at X.O. Tech."

"The government needs someone to pilot that spaceship that went down in the harbour last year."

"You?! But your field is biology, isn't it?" Sylvia said.  
"They think I can learn."  
"Who's teaching you?" She asked.  
"Myself, I'm guessing."  
"Oh, that's dreadful."  
"It's a resource problem. I don't know how long it'll take and I don't want Marigold left on her own. Spike's a good friend but he's not a parental replacement."

Sylvia shook her head. "I'm absolutely coming with you. We'll do it in half the time. Elmo will babysit Marigold." She looked at her son.  
"Sure, I'll babysit. She can play with my old toys. I'll dig out the puppet theatre from the attic."  
"Don't forget the phonograph, Elmo dear."  
"Oh, yeah." Elmo chuckled. "We had a lot of fun with... that when I was a kid. Do you like music, Marigold?"

'His school friend.'

"Yes!"  
"Thanks, Elmo. I knew I could count on you."  
"What to not be terrible? Yeah. Hey, could we talk? Come with us, Marigold, I'll open the piano so you can have a play."

* * *

Elmo went with Reginald into the lounge and opened up the shutter for the upright pianola by the door. Marigold climbed up onto the chair and started pressing the keys with glee. Elmo drew Reginald over to the window at the other side of the room with a serious expression.

"Jack's been getting worse. He nearly keeled over after we left that place the other night. He got up alright but now he's locked himself in his apartment. Negaduck says he won't open his door... Negaduck says he 'can't bust open' the door."  
"He can't stay like that. Has he seen his doctor about it?"  
"What doctor is going to help him, Reggie?" Elmo frowned. "He needs..." He turned away from Reginald and grasped the back of a nearby armchair. "You should know exactly what he needs. It's really hard not to think about... him... Jack didn't get enough. None of us got enough. That woman didn't have a clue what she was dealing with."

Reginald sighed. "How are we supposed to find that guy, Elmo?"  
Elmo turned back to him in surprise. "You forgot about the spaceship already?!"  
"Elmo, that spaceship is for fighting Nazis. Not finding needles in haystacks."

"Look, it's simple. You're going to Duckburg and that's where Darkwing is right now. While you're over there, start asking for a short guy with a tall shadow. He'll show up unless he has a reason not to. Then you can tell him about Jack. It's a proverbial cakewalk."

"How do you know Darkwing's in Duckburg? How do you know 'I'm' going to Duckburg?!"

"It's elementary." Elmo suddenly blocked his mental field from Reginald. "The alien ship has undoubtedly advanced telephonic systems. It would only be logical for the government to use every resource available to them to spy on the Nazis. Nazi headquarters aren't in St Canard; that would draw too much attention. But St Canard's an important strategic point on the map. The only other place the Nazis could be is Mouseton and-."

Reginald grabbed Elmo by the collar. "Have you been holding out on us this whole time? Why haven't you been helping?!" He let go. "Why haven't I noticed? Am I this gullible? And I'm leaving Marigold with you?!"

_"I am helping!"_ Elmo exclaimed. "The problem is I know things that you aren't ready to understand."  
"Don't talk-."  
"_I'm not!_ This isn't something you can sit on the fence about, Reggie. Negaduck wants to saw Darkwing in half." Elmo clenched his teeth.  
"Oh, gosh." Reginald flinched. "I didn't know it was that serious."

"You can't be friends with both of them. I can't say anymore or I'll just be doing what Negaduck's doing. You have to make your own mind up, Reggie." He sighed and rubbed his head. "I wish I could explain more. I really do. Either you're-. No, I can't even say that." He sighed. "It's either Negaduck or Darkwing. You can't be friends with both."

"Reggie!" Marigold rushed across the room.  
He knelt down and gave her a hug.  
"I don't want you to go."  
"It's work, Marigold, I need to."  
"What if you don't come back?"

He pulled away and looked into her brown eyes, ran his leafy hand over her curly hair. "I'm coming back, sweet pea. It's just a big job."

Reginald gave Marigold another hug. "Uncle Elmo will look after you till I get back. He's a good person and he'll take care of you."  
Marigold sniffed and nodded.  
"Don't forget Spike's here too. And Madeline... I love you, sweetie."  
"Love too."

Reginald smiled at her and stood up. He gave a nervous smile to Elmo.  
"Don't worry." Elmo's expression was dark. "I'll guard her with my life."

* * *

Sylvia stepped in the lounge room with an air of departure. "I've got everything I need. Come along, Reggie. The longer we take to leave, the longer Marigold has to wait for you to come back. Bye bye, dears." She ushered him out the door and over to Reginald's car.

Marigold raced after them and waved them off from the porch with Elmo standing behind her. Reginald waved back before resigning himself to driving away.

"I miss her already." He moaned to himself, reaching his mind back toward her.

"At least she wasn't crying."  
Reginald flinched. "She's crying right now."  
"Elmo cried when I took him to Eleanor's. The first week it was terrible. I'd look into those blue eyes and it was like the world was ending. He thought I'd leave him like his grandmother. It was awful. But he got used to it. And I always came back to collect him. I mean, except for the couple times I forgot."

Reginald could sense Marigold was settling down. She was going to be alright. Elmo had a big heart. It was going to be a tough day for everyone. "I hope it doesn't take too long to figure out the controls."

"Conceivably the hardest manoeuvre will be getting it out of the water. First there's around 1010 hectopascals bearing down on the hull to consider. Plus whatever the saucer weighs... we'll find that out as a matter of priority, of course. Once we get out of the water, it's simple. It's all just a matter of counterbalancing the gravimetric force of the planet and then using the north-side thruster to take us south."

"N-north-side thruster to take us south, r-right..."  
"Aft... if we're pointing to Duckburg. But it doesn't really matter with a saucer. We could be facing any direction-we could be facing every direction. We could be spinning around like a top!" She giggled.  
_"No, no; I don't want to do that!"_

"Oh, I'm sorry, Reggie, I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I'm just a little excited. I've wanted to see inside that spaceship since I first laid eyes on it. Can you imagine how big the magnetic drive must be?"  
"Magnetic drive?"  
"It's the thing that spins the ship."  
"A centrifugal force would send the-."  
"No, no. Think of it as a miniature Earth. Its own magnetic field, its own atmosphere, its own gravity centre."

"Egad!" Reginald clenched the steering wheel and swerved sharply around a bent pylon. "What devil possessed me to say yes? This is ludicrous!"

"The worst that can happen is it doesn't work at all. It's a privilege and an honour that they even let you try."

Reginald sobered, passing a Nazi squad car. Off for more destruction. Off to make more victims.  
"You're right, Sylvia. We've got to stop them and if this is the only way to do it, we've got to give it our best."


	16. Seaweed

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 94**

* * *

**Seaweed**

* * *

Reginald Bushroot stepped into S.H.U.S.H. headquarters with Sylvia Sputterspark. The woman at the reception desk was wearing a cream coloured cravat.

"Hello. Agent Bushroot looking for Agent Hooter."  
"Accompanying?" She looked at Sylvia.  
"Mrs Sputterspark, she's an expert in technology science."  
"We're glad for the help." She said. "First floor, to the right."

* * *

They went up into a study hall type of room.  
"Can you see him?" Sylvia said in dismay at the desks and filing cabinets.  
"He's this way." Reginald weaved through the field of desks and chair legs.

Agent Hooter was at a desk by the window wearing his usual grey suit. He held the pen loose over a dog-eared pocket notebook. Hooter's attention was out of the window to another day; some other time.

"Agent Hooter?" Reginald Bushroot came up to him at his desk.

Hooter blinked, stirring. A moment later his eyes fell on Sylvia and cordiality changed to horror. He stood up in alarm.

"Allow me to introduce Mrs Sputterspark." Reginald said.  
Sylvia held out her hand for him to take. "Doctor, Sputterspark, actually. Mrs Sputterspark was my mother's name."  
"Erm, charmed to meet you, ma'am." Charmed was not the word for what Hooter was feeling at all about Sylvia. He was defensive, protective, distrusting, wary and suspicious of her.  
"What training program have you worked out?" Sylvia asked.  
"Ma'am..."

"S.H.U.S.H. is having a skill shortage, Agent Hooter." Reginald said. "Doctor Sputterspark's offered to be my technological advisor."  
"What have your engineers done about converting the quad controls into dual-handling operability?" Sylvia asked.  
Hooter straightened and cleared his throat. "Very well, Agent. But Doctor Sputterspark is 'your' responsibility."  
"Great. Let's go so we can get back." Reginald said.

Hooter closed his notebook and tucked it and his pen into his jacket. He gathered his files into his briefcase and led them off to the elevator.

* * *

Reginald wasn't a fan of the closed-in feeling the submarine S.H.U.S.H. had named '_Turtle_' gave him. The murky depths of the harbour was not helping. He could feel the pressure of all that water bearing down on the _Turtle_'s hull. All 1010 whatevers of it.

"You look very pale, Reggie." Sylvia said.  
"I-it's not... I j- want to be outside." He said, feeling ill.  
"That's good news." Hooter said.  
"Agent Hooter!" Sylvia scolded.  
"If Reginald's inspired to get out of the water, he'll find a way to do it. Wanting something is a key to succeed at getting it."  
"I suppose even a man such as you may make sense sometimes."  
"I beg your pardon!"  
"That nonsense you were rattling about earlier. I suppose you can't conceive of a woman in a scientific position?"

Reginald did his best to block out Hooter and Sylvia's continuing argument. He looked out the porthole, concentrating on the fish swimming by and the various seaweed.

A school of smaller fish larked about amidst larger ones. A lost anchor stuck in a rock outcropping was a home for moss and algae. Reginald spotted cuttlefish and sea turtles going about amongst the seaweed and moss.

Peering through the water-world, Reginald began to make out a ledge. It was massive and vanished off into the blue-green distance. Fish swam before it. The closer they got the more of an immense wall it became.

"My gosh, is that it?" Reginald felt a horror.  
Hooter joined him at the window. "Yes. It's significantly larger in person, isn't it?"  
"I remember that thing being in the sky."  
"It's a pity we can't just leave the infernal thing buried in the seabed." Hooter said. "But circumstances don't allow us that luxury."

"The greatest scientific discovery of the twentieth century!" Sylvia said. "That confirms my suspicions: you're barbarians! Perfect barbarians the lot of you."  
"Madame, we-!"

"All hands prepare for docking!" The _Turtle_'s captain's voice piped through the intercom, cutting off Hooter's retaliation. "Cut power to the engine."

The ledge split open, revealing a water-less, electric lit world inside. It was like a horrifying dream. A giant set of mechanical pincers reached out of that stark inner world. As it clamped around the sides of the submarine, Reginald heard the sound of metal against the hull. The pincers retracted with a gradual motion and pulled the submarine inside of the giant maw.

* * *

Reginald followed the first mate out of the submarine and down the rope ladder. When his roots landed on solid metal decking he felt a little relief. He watched the docking bay doors finish closing against the sea-world beyond.

"How big is this thing?" Reginald asked.  
"About four storeys high, two of them buried in the seabed. Above us is a no boating zone, so you don't need to worry about hitting anything." Hooter said.  
"That's always good to know."

No water had transported through the barrier with them. "That barrier makes this a fully contained environment." Reginald commented.  
"Yes." Hooter said. "Perfectly terrifying. They're calling it a 'force-field'."

As the crew left the submarine, excitement and trepidation filled the air. Reginald wasn't the only one fighting back nerves about the job ahead of them.

"Captain on deck!" The submarine captain, Agent Lanley, barked. The crew of the submarine snapped into two lines behind Reginald and Sylvia. Feeling awkward, Reginald backed himself off to the end off the front line next to Hooter.

Another S.H.U.S.H. agent dressed in marine white came up to greet them. He was tall, thin and a vampire. So Reginald wasn't the first vampire hired by S.H.U.S.H. after all? Two women, a man and their conspicuous clipboards followed on the vampire's heels.

"Welcome aboard the C.I.S.S. Condoris. I'm Captain Agent Muddlefoot at your service, miss...?"  
"Doctor Sylvia Sputterspark." Sylvia held out her hand.  
Muddlefoot didn't take Sylvia's hand and simply bowed instead. "How do you do, ma'am? S.H.U.S.H. appreciates the extra helping hand."  
"Why, thank you. Who's the best expert engineer on the ship?" Sylvia asked.  
"Um, I am, miss. The only 'non-engineers' came aboard on the submarine with you." Muddlefoot nodded, his eyes behind her.

Sylvia turned to regard the two tidy rows of Agents.

"Captain Muddlefoot." Hooter took a step forward. "First officer Agent Hooter and operating crew reporting for duty."

"Good to have you aboard, men. Green ops team, you'll be reporting to Agent Vogel, Wrenson is in charge of blue and Brooks is heading yellow. Red ops team is assigned to me. Any questions, take them up with your designated corporal. Right, men, let's get this mission underway. Red team, Doctor Sputterspark, fall in."

"I assume I'm red too, then?" Reginald said, seeing Hooter start off after Muddlefoot with Agent Lanley.

"It's an arbitrary designation assigning task lists based loosely on skill levels." Captain Muddlefoot answered. "When you get the ship off the seabed, it'll get pretty exciting for whoever's on point."

Not a whole lot of that made sense to Reginald. Compared to Doctor Kitrine, this guy was strange.

* * *

The inner door to the cargo bay was circular. A band of light formed a ring around it, casting a cool glow as it slid sideways.

Outside of the cargo bay, a subtle glowing grey coated the floors. The roof was low and gave Muddlefoot just enough head clearance that he didn't have to stoop.

They passed on through the bending corridors. At junctions, the walls had paper signs taped to them to help the operational crew find their way around. It was clear that S.H.U.S.H. had done a lot of work to get this place duck friendly.

* * *

"...Which brings the total anti-gravimetric units to eighteen." The captain finished his summary.

"That is a lot." Sylvia considered looking through the crystal wall. Beyond the crystal barrier, a large electrified ball sat, nestled in the hull.  
"The _Condoris_ is ready for all conceivable combat manoeuvres." Muddlefoot said.  
"Combat manoeuvres!" Reginald felt a surge of panic.  
"Of course we've got to do combat manoeuvres..." Agent Lanley said in a meek tone.

"Erm, don't worry about that too much, Agent Bushroot." Hooter said. "Let's focus on one thing at a time. Getting the _Condoris_ airborne."  
"We should take a break." Muddlefoot said. "The recreation room's this way."

* * *

Captain Muddlefoot led them off to a room that S.H.U.S.H. had turned into a tea room. There was a table with a steaming water urn, a large coffee jar, cups, and strange food. Produce from the hydroponics garden, Reginald guessed. One of the women must had been experimenting.

The air between them was tremulous and uneasy. What did a college professor know about combat manoeuvres?

Reginald needed to think on something else. "You have the same surname as the old monarchy." He said over his coffee to Muddlefoot.  
The captain shrugged.  
"That must be something; having your family history on display at the university."  
"I had no idea it was even there." Muddlefoot said. "I went straight to S.H.U.S.H. after I graduated and studied under Doctor Bellum."

Reginald felt the coffee churn in his stomach. '_Doctor Bellum!'_ The prospect of coming across her in this job made him tense.

"Do you have children, captain?" Sylvia asked Muddlefoot.  
"Triplets. They've kept my wife busy for the past ten years."  
"She's very fortunate to have you." Sylvia said.

"We're all very impressed with the progress your team has made fixing the ship, captain." Hooter said. "A month ago we didn't have light switches."  
"It's been an enjoyable project." Muddlefoot said.  
"Is Doctor Bellum on the ship?" Reginald asked.  
"Um, no." Muddlefoot looked at Hooter.

* * *

After their settling in break, Muddlefoot led them to the captain's cabin to finish the orientation tour.

"It's very homey in here." Sylvia commented, looking at the ant farm that was on central display.  
"My wife's doing." The captain collected a bunch of large scrolls from the metal work cupboard. He laid them out on the metal table. "This is what I've shown you here." He pointed out the various areas. "We've got four decks at the centre, tapering out to the edges. The anti-gravity units are housed on these diametric lines... Is it starting to get clearer for you, Agent Bushroot?"

Reginald felt frustrated. "W-I think I'm getting the ship, but I don't get you. Why can't _'you'_ fly the ship, Agent Muddlefoot?"  
The captain straightened, looking alarmed. "I'm an engineer, not a pilot."  
"But you're a vampire." Reginald said. "If I can fly, you can."  
"I-um..."

"Oh, good grief, another vampire?" Sylvia said. "It never rains but it pours."

"I'm a plant and I'm giving it a go."  
"And S.H.U.S.H. really appreciates-."  
_"Don't! _Hooter. Why do they all sound like you?" Reginald stormed out of the room. He was really not impressed.

* * *

Reginald ended up in the hydroponics section. It was humid in here and overgrown. The S.H.U.S.H. crew had thought to bring in a garden bench. Ducks liked parks and this was as close as it came down in the depths of the harbour. As alien as these plants were, there was still some solace in their company.

After a spell, the circular door opened behind him. Reginald's visitor stepped up beside the bench. Reginald didn't have to even look to know it was Agent Hooter.

"Hooter, can you explain to me why he can't fly his own ship, please?"  
"Agent Muddlefoot's a support agent. Support agents don't pilot ships."  
His answer only continued Reginald's frustration. "Can't you just promote him?"  
"No. That isn't how the agency works."

Reginald stood up to face him. "So you can pull some random person in off the street, but if they're already working for you 'forget about it'? What do you take me for, Hooter?"  
"I-I'm not sure what's distressing you about this matter."  
"_Because you keep lying to me, Hooter!_ Or not telling me everything... some combination of the two! All I want is the truth."

"_The truth!_ The truth is that S.H.U.S.H. has enemies who torture us for information, so the less you know, the safer it is for everyone. Including you. I'm sorry if I come across as dishonest, but we don't have anyone to give you resistance training at the moment. We lost our A.D. attempting to breach friendly relations with these space age 'brunos'. If Condoris was still alive, believe me; I would refer you to him in a h-erm, blink of an eye. Unfortunately he's not."

Reginald's attention jagged on Hooter's stumble. "Heartbeat, you were going to say 'in a heartbeat'."  
Hooter cleared his throat. "Agent..." A tide of raw emotions spilled in on Reginald stronger than before. Remorse, guilt, indignity, determination, curiosity, compassion...

"You're a bat, Reginald. Wings, flight-."  
"Why won't you promote Agent Muddlefoot?"  
"Outdoors. Do you remember? You didn't want to be down here. You said in the submarine how much you wanted to be outside. In the sky. Away. Out of the water. That blue sky, the crisp Fall breeze. Up in the air. Where you can-."

Reginald gave up.

"-Breathe." Hooter finished.  
"Gosh, you're serious about not giving me a straight answer."  
"Agent Muddlefoot's rank and file is of no consequence to you, agent. All you need to know is that _'you'_ are the pilot here, not him. It's on _'you'_ we rely. He'll assist you if he can." Hooter straightened his jacket and turned back for the door.  
Reginald stood up in concern. "I-I'm sorry, are you alright?"  
"I'm fine." Hooter gave him a peculiar look and left.


	17. Under the Sea

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 95**

**Under the Sea**

* * *

Reginald Bushroot was so confused.

Thrusters equated to a car steering wheel and an accelerator pedal. The trick was that the steering was in reverse and each direction's accelerator was on a separate hand-operated lever... so it was nothing like a car steering wheel and there were ten accelerators.

If that wasn't complicated enough, there was also the anti-gravity system to think of. This one was a real brain bender. Reginald still had no proper idea of why the anti-gravity units even existed. Couldn't they just do everything with thrusters? The short answer was 'no'. He could control each unit, but he needed to ignore that fact and focus on what they were doing as a grid. The reason that the units could be controlled individually was for a 'redundancy plan'.

Meanwhile, time ticked on. The system had been explained to them and now Sylvia was explaining it back to Reginald. Still, Reginald wasn't getting it.

Adding to Reginald's confusion was a mildly terrifying personal question. Where was all his energy going? The harder he thought about what he was learning, the faster his ability to focus vanished. But why? He didn't have a headache. He wasn't sensing any ill-will toward him on the _Condoris._ But if nobody was to blame, where was his energy going?

This was getting out of hand. Reginald was visiting hydroponics so often it was obvious to anyone that he had a problem. He was getting funny looks from the other agents. Reginald wanted to see an end to his growing embarrassment. He decided to ask for Muddlefoot's insight. The captain was a vampire; he had to know something about what was sapping Reginald's energy.

* * *

Agent Muddlefoot was overseeing repairs on a system Reginald hadn't come across.

He thought to try a casual conversation. "Hi, Muddlefoot... What's this thing do?"

**"Plasma-shakes."** Muddlefoot said in a dark tone.

Reginald's breath hitched. This 'casual' conversation had turned dark very quickly. "You're joking. W-we're supposed to be the good guys."  
"My ancestors ruled over Calisota. They didn't make us a democracy just to have it overthrown by a pack of un-alive nutcrackers."

It was like Reginald was talking to an entirely different person and this one was terrifying.

"A-aren't we technically in the same category?" Reginald asked.  
The captain snorted. "Remember that Nazi you bit?"  
"Yeah?"  
"What was his name?"  
"I-I didn't ask."

Muddlefoot's heart-rate slowed. "You... **didn't ask**."  
"N-no. I realise that wasn't polite of me, but he was tied up and... w-you know they only give you their rank and serial number anyway, right?"

**"Hooter!"** Muddlefoot let out an annoyed huff.  
"What?" Reginald fretted. "I wouldn't have bitten him at all if-."

The captain stormed out of the room, ignoring Reginald's words.

Reginald hurried after him.

* * *

Muddlefoot went through the circular door into the captain's quarters. Agent Hooter was sitting having coffee as he did his paperwork.

"Hooter." Muddlefoot's tone was stern as he stepped before the table. "You hired a shovel-head!" He gestured back to Reginald standing between him and the ant farm display.  
"No. He's just a little green." Hooter disagreed. "You can tell just by talking to him." He turned his eyes to Reginald.

_'What was a shovel-head...?'_

Muddlefoot shook his head and turned to Reginald. "What was the name of the Nazi you bit?"  
"I told you; I don't know." Reginald was feeling even less comfortable now.  
"You said you didn't ask." Muddlefoot said.  
"_No, I didn't ask!_ But I also didn't kill him, which is more than I can say for y-!"

"You hear that?" Muddlefoot cut him off and turned back to Hooter. "He said he '**didn't... ask**'!"

Hooter's heart rate sped up and his face flushed red. "He's a college professor and he's with _'us'_ now. There's nothing else to say about it."  
"I don't get it." Reginald frowned.  
"You better make the best darn report of your life about this, Agent. You'll end up sectioned off into ghost patrol if you don't."  
Hooter stood up. _"You are out of line!"  
_**"I outrank you."  
**"Your husband outranks me, Mrs Muddlefoot; you're a_ housewife!"  
_Muddlefoot straightened, folding his arms. **"You know I'm right."**

Hooter clenched his teeth. "No, no you are not _'right',_ Mrs Muddlefoot! You cannot _'clinically diagnose'_ someone's character like that! Now, please vacate S.H.U.S.H. property; we have a lot to do here and you're interfering with our operations."  
"**Sure, I'll leave.** But that doesn't change your vampire situation. Vampires never change, they do the same thing over and over." Muddlefoot turned to Reginald. "If you ever find your sire, do the world a favour and dust 'em."

He left the room and the circular door closed.  
"...So much for asking for help." Reginald muttered, staring at the closed door.  
"Unbelievable." Hooter sank down in the chair. "What a tempestuous she-devil." He looked up at Reginald. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that, Agent." He let out a sigh.

Reginald sat down opposite him. "What was... _'she'_ going on about?"  
"We... can't judge her too harshly; she's a very passionate woman and it hasn't been a week since she was turned."  
"But what she was saying..."

"Erm..."

"Am I sending you onto ghost hunting duty?" Reginald demanded to know.  
"Not in the least." Hooter chuckled weakly. "Thank you for the kind thought."  
Reginald sighed in relief.

Hooter was still uncomfortable. "As ludicrous as it sounds, I will have to answer the issue in my report, now that she's raised it."  
"This 'shovel-head' thing?"  
Unwilling to answer that directly, Hooter cleared his throat. "I'm... sorry to have to ask, but how long ago did you discover your vampiric condition?"

"My infection _'occurred'_ approximately three days ago. Discovering what it was, however-."  
"Three days? That's positively fine, then!" Hooter was suddenly cheerful. "S.H.U.S.H. policy is to give a week's grace before we start making any such assessments. Her report on you will be dismissed immediately..." His tone grew serious again. "On the same token, however, we shouldn't have you working."

"_I'm getting to Duckburg!_ Us... to Duck...burg..." Reginald clenched his beak. "Look, don't-." He sighed at Hooter's questioning expression. "My sire's in Duckburg." He explained. "I'm told. So I hope he is. My friend's pretty convinced. We can do more than one thing when we get there, right? The Nazis come first, obviously."

Hooter's query cleared to optimism. "It's your first day on the job and you're already multi-tasking calamities." He smiled. "You have the makings to be S.H.U.S.H.'s top agent."  
"Really? Cool!" Reginald beamed back at him. He felt strangely empowered.

"I'm going to have another go at getting this space cave airborne."

* * *

Reginald got back to the control room to find a crew dismantling the piloting station.

"Er, what...?" He went over to Muddlefoot studying his clipboard notes. "What are you guys doing?"

"We're dividing the piloting station up into two." Muddlefoot answered, looking up at him. "The changes we're making should increase your chances for success. There'll be two of you on the controls rather than just the one."  
"So I don't have to worry about the anti-gravity system?" Reginald asked.  
"No. You'll still be managing the thrusters and the antigravs. Doctor Sputterspark will be concerned with everything else."

"Everything else?" _'What else is there?'_

Notebook in hand, Sylvia picked her way through the mess to him. "I think I've got everything here. Why don't we grab some tea while we wait, Reggie? It's about that time anyway."  
"Uh, sure..."  
"We'll notify you when it's finished." Muddlefoot said.  
"Sure." Reginald left the room with Sylvia by his side.

* * *

Reginald spent his extended afternoon break sitting at the table, worrying about Marigold. Sylvia was busy, doodling in her S.H.U.S.H provided notebook.

After all this was over he needed to get Marigold some nice winter clothes. This morning had been nippy and it was going to get much worse when winter actually hit. Then, of course, was what future jobs S.H.U.S.H. might give him. What were the controls going to look like when they got back? It seemed that the hard work of learning wasn't easing up for Reginald. All that did was cut out the part he was nowhere near up to learning.

_'No, stop thinking about it!' _

"Sylvia, how does Elmo know Darkwing Duck?"  
She looked up from her scribbles. "I'm friends with his mother. Oh, he's not that old, Reggie, don't look so shocked." She chuckled.  
Reginald closed his beak. "What's he like?"  
She shrugged. "A little eccentric."  
"Eccentric?"  
"They call _'me'_ eccentric. After they're done calling me other things."

Reginald felt bad. "I'm sorry I used the wrong addressal earlier. I'd assumed your husband had died."  
Sylvia shrugged. "It's alright. If he'd have turned up for the wedding he'd have been a different man."  
"That's rather profound."  
Sylvia pushed her notepad over to him. "Look at this, Reggie."

Reginald took the pad and looked at the drawing she'd been busy working on. "It looks like a Superpig comic with stick figures."  
"Oh, I'm sorry it's not an oil painting! Just read it... you old fuddy-duddy."

"The return of the M-?" He tried to read the scrawling writing.  
"Martian space plant. Where did you learn how to read?"  
"Hammington School for-."  
_"Look!"_ She pointed, cutting him off. "Photosynthetic hull. There, see? Isn't it simple?"

Reginald stared at the page. The _Condoris_ wasn't photosynthetic, what was she talking about? The implication sounded terrible. "I-no, I don't understand."

"Take one electric power-grid, add one psycho-kinetic plant and _wham!"_ She clapped her hands together, making Reginald flinch. "Presto, electro-plant-o!" She giggled. "It couldn't be simpler!"  
Reginald gulped. "Maybe have a look at the new stations first."  
"Sure, we can keep doing things the hard way." Sylvia shrugged went back to scribbling in her book.

Reginald watched her. "So you're into the funnies."  
She looked up at him. "No, frankly, I'm into Wells and Verne. My son's into the funnies."  
"Wells? The Island of Doctor Moreau?"  
"See, we do have something in common." She chuckled.

* * *

The door opened and Agent Lanley waved at them. "We're finished. Let me show you."

They went back to the piloting room. Sylvia's new station was front to front with Reginald's.

Reginald glanced around at the new control layout. "Um..." Ten directional accelerators, eighteen anti-gravity units, and one grid status reader. This was all he'd been working on learning all morning, and this was all there was now. He sat down in the chair, looking for what was missing.

"Oh, no..."  
"Reggie, are you alright?" Sylvia asked.  
"It's gone..." He lamented. "I took it for granted..." He rubbed his face.  
"What's the matter, Reggie?!" Sylvia demanded. "What's gone?"

"How am I supposed to drive without any kind of windscreen?"  
"I tell you, of course."  
"They took the navigation panel away."  
"I have it. It's right here. Have a look."

Reginald stood up and went around to her side.

"So I figure out all the things that need to be done, and you concentrate on doing them." Sylvia explained.  
He exhaled. "I don't like it."  
"Reggie, it's taking all your concentration to handle the controls-."  
"I know." He sighed and rubbed his face.


	18. Plant Fly

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 96**

**Ever See a Plant Fly**

* * *

So long as Sylvia had the energy, Reginald kept trying. Boy, Sylvia had a lot of energy.

Over the next few hours, Reginald and Sylvia designed a communication system. They gave alphabet letters to each control. Thrusters A and B were top and bottom. Anti-gravity units AA and AB were central top and central bottom. Reginald was still largely confused about why the anti-gravimetric system existed. At least the thrusters didn't worry him anymore, though. Some progress, as Hooter pointed out earlier, should be appreciated.

At dinner time, Reginald saw the captain sitting alone from the others in red team. He was eating alien vegetable lasagna and reading a folded down newspaper. Muddlefoot caught his eye and silently invited him over. Reginald excused himself from sitting with Sylvia and Hooter and took his plate over.

"Sorry for earlier." Muddlefoot said as Reginald sat down opposite him. "My wife isn't very delicate with words."  
"I've been in worse company these last few days." Reginald said.  
"Really?" Muddlefoot said. _"It's a wonder they didn't turn you into a bucket of gelatine."_ He added in an offhand manner.  
Reginald felt heat in his cheeks as his heart rate jumped up. "No, but I did come close to biting him." He defended himself. "Does that count?"  
A small smile crept onto Muddlefoot's face. He actually thought that was funny?

"How can I help you, agent?"  
"I though vampires were really strong." Reginald began.  
"We are." Muddlefoot grew serious again.  
"Is it normal to need to eat so much?"  
"Well." Muddlefoot blinked at him. "There's a negative correlation between intelligence and how much a vampire eats. Eating 'so much' is a sign of inefficient metabolistic management."

Reginald swallowed the indignation rising up inside him. "So I'm stupid for not having it figured out yet?"  
"What? No, I meant it's normal for some vampires because they never ask _'why'_ they're hungry."  
Reginald shut his beak, feeling steamed. "I believe I just asked."

"The answer's in your medical records." Muddlefoot said in his eternally calm voice. "You're not a vampire. You're one blood exchange off."  
_"Erk!"_ Reginald's stomach turned and the food he'd just put in it made him queasy. He pushed the plate away.  
"Sorry." Muddlefoot looked at his plate.

"Common symptoms of second stage conversion are lethargy and an inability to concentrate. If their energy is really low they can-."  
_"I'm managing!"  
_"If you need a new sire I can recommend this guy." Muddlefoot spun the newspaper around and slid it over to him.

Reginald looked down at the newspaper. It was the page 3 news.

**"Vampire Attack on Main Street Theatre."**

It was nightmarish to think he'd become one of those monsters.

"Why does everything have to be about blood?"  
"It isn't." Muddlefoot stood up.  
"Yeah, what about the plasma shakes?"  
Muddlefoot straightened. "My wife's sense of humour is an acquired taste." He took his plate to the cleaning cart and left.

Reginald sighed and took the newspaper over to Hooter and Sylvia. He took his half finished plate to the cart, got a glass of water and sat down with them.

"Is there anyone's business that guy doesn't know?" Reginald asked Hooter.  
"As captain he is in his rights." Hooter answered. "Ship-shape, and what-not."  
"Don't." Sylvia scoffed. "Be serious, Agent Hooter." She demanded with a laugh.  
"One needs curiosity in this line of work, doctor."

Reginald sat back, glancing over the news article as the others chatted. It was apparently a vampire launching an anti-Nazi attack.

"When they say 'under state protection'..." He began, looking up at Hooter. "Do they mean that place that Marigold was locked in?"  
Hooter turned his head to him. "One of the places, yes."

Sylvia picked up her empty plate. "You want to try my idea now, Reggie?"  
"Sure." He agreed, standing up. It had to be easier than all those levers.  
"Good luck." Hooter cheered them on.

* * *

They got into the piloting control room and Sylvia ushered him to his chair. "Come on, Reggie, science waits for no plant or beast!"

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this." Reginald sat down. "You're basically repeating what happened to Elmo with me."  
"No, I'm not... You are!" She pulled off the new cover for the station. "This is all you, Reggie. I'm just the ideas person."

Reginald gazed at all the wires and circuit boards. "My goodness, how do I-."  
"Think of it like roots. Connect your electro-chemical system into it."  
Reginald looked down for the power lines. "Well..." Dubious about the advice, he reached his leafy fingers towards the bare circuits. Electricity shot through him and the next second he was sitting on the floor.

"Reggie?" Sylvia asked.  
Muddlefoot came over to them. "He has to try again."  
_"Ah!"_ Reginald jumped. "Um, um, I mean... gi-give me a m-minute..."  
"The longer you wait the more panicked you'll get-." Muddlefoot said.

_"Don't...!"_ Reginald clenched his beak, glaring up at Muddlefoot's impassive expression. _"You... judgemental-!"  
"Reggie!"_ Sylvia cut him off in horror. Worry was on her face. "You are not alright."

Reginald got up off the floor, trying to regain his dignity. _"He's testing me!"  
_"_Don't worry about whatever he's doing!_ Try the power-grid again." Sylvia said.  
_"It didn't work!"_ Reginald disagreed.

"If you're as good as Hooter thinks you are, converting electric energy should be a walk in the park." Muddlefoot said. "I'll go make sure the engine has the extra power to handle this." He walked out of the control room.

_'Dismissed?'_ Reginald glared after him. _"How... dare he!"  
_"_He didn't do anything, Reggie!_ Come on, have another try."  
_"He thinks I'm an idiot!"_ Reginald gestured to the closed door.  
"Well, be glad you're not a woman then; I get it five times a day and twice as many on weekends!" Sylvia discounted. "Now, once you connect to the power grid you can connect up to the other systems. One step at a time, though. Alright?"  
Reginald was sullen. "Alright."

He returned to looking down at the station's wiry innards. "So... how do I convert electricity into food?"  
"Try to think how Elmo does it." Sylvia said.

Instead, all Reginald could think of was Muddlefoot. They were cordial at dinnertime but now it was back to this. "So I'm not enough of a vampire, huh?" Reginald glared at the circuits and grabbed the power-line again. The electricity shot up his arm. He let go and stumbled backwards, landing to the ground again.

_"Ouch."_ Sylvia knelt down beside him. "Maybe we need a more considered plan of attack?"  
"I'm getting it. Or at least, my Vespers are getting it." Reginald stood up and grabbed the wire again, bracing against the shock. He let go and looked as the electricity disappeared into his leafy fingers. "The Vespers. That's what's been eating me."

"Pardon?"

"My Vespers... the parasites I got from that vampire's blood." He winced. "If I don't keep feeding them, they'll kill me." He looked at Sylvia. "That must be why vampires are so notorious. These parasites want to do me in." He flinched. " If I could... Maybe I could invent some kind of blood filter to get rid of them? Maybe it'll help Jack."

"Nobody wants to kill you, Reggie!" She shook her head. Sylvia's expression hardened. "It's been a long day, that's all. Come on, you're so darn close to flying this ship. You _'can'_ do this."

Reginald took a breath and nodded.

* * *

"You've got the power grid, so let's work on getting you thruster control now." Sylvia flipped a couple pages back in her notebook and showed him a bunch of connecting lines and squiggles.

"This is a pictorial representation of my understanding of the thruster system." Sylvia explained. "So when I say things like 'gates' those are things that open and close. Closed gates complete the circuit and the computer will register them as 'on'. These are the levers." She pointed to them in the notebook.

"The job is all about regulating the amount of power flowing into each of the circuits all the way back there. She pointed to the word 'engine' at the edge of the page. "Currently all the gates are all the way open and no power is getting into the thrusters. So let's start by picking just one thruster circuit and you look for that open gate." Sylvia went around to watch from her overview station.

"Alright." Reginald sat down in his chair and connected to the thruster J circuit. "You're right, it's unpowered."  
"Follow it along to the end." She instructed.

Reginald reached out along the circuit until it ended. He felt the urge to jump across. He did and power shot up his arm. "Wow, that was easy."  
"Can you regulate it? Less and more power going through."  
"Yes."  
"So now you've met thruster J. Grab onto the next one."

"Is this safe?" Reginald suddenly thought to ask.  
"Of course it's safe, Reggie. Try thruster I and J together." Sylvia repeated.  
Reginald did and the ship still didn't move. "Nothing."  
"Great, let's try a full chord. Thrusters H, I and J."

Reginald connected H through as well. "Nothing!" He gritted, forcing more power through.

_"Time out, Reggie!"_ Sylvia exclaimed. "What are you doing?"  
_"Well, why won't this darn thing move?"_ Reginald complained.  
"It's not supposed to move: we have no inertia."

Reginald stood up, overwhelmed. "What's '_inertia_'?!"  
"Go have some water."  
_"No, I'm fine!"_ He looked down at the controls and hooked into thrusters H, I and J again. He pushed more of his mind in. Gravity. That's why the ship wasn't moving! Gravity. So much water. The pressure bore down on Reginald. He was trapped; a pebble in the ocean.

* * *

Water hit him with a splash.

Reginald yanked himself away from the controls and stepped back in a splutter. He was drenched down to the stem and was struggling to breath for a moment.

Sylvia was standing there with a fire bucket. She looked murderous.  
"Wh-what did you do that for?" He brushed down his wet leaves. "You could have shorted out the system, Sylvia."  
_"And you nearly overloaded it!"_ She replied.  
_"How am I supposed to move this-!"_

_"Stop!"_ Sylvia put her fingers to her brow. She put the bucket down on the floor and looked at him again. "This was a test, Reggie. To get you working with the system, not to get the system working. You need to calm down. Get some water into you."

Reginald slumped. "Alright."

* * *

"Not like I was getting anywhere anyway." Reginald slowly trudged towards the recreation room. Not only was he a failure, but he'd made Sylvia mad as well. He brushed more water off of his leaves. "Oh, why can't I keep any friends?"

On that thought, Reginald noticed an agent with blonde hair in the corridor. She was wheeling a cart of equipment.

"Hi!" He stopped her. "How are you? Agent...?"  
"Fishburn." She stopped to smile at him. "I'm doing well, Agent Bushroot."  
"What's that for? The ship's fixed. I mean, isn't it?"  
"Were you briefed on the weapon systems?" Fishburn asked in a rising panic.  
"Uh, no..."  
_"It's o.k.!"_ She said in a hurried voice. "We're making progress. Should have that heat ray up in a few hours, agent." She saluted him with a nervous smile.

Reginald took a step back. "Sure. Um, good luck."

So Reginald wasn't the only one scrabbling to get things together in this place? And Muddlefoot still thought that _'he'_ was an idiot?

_'Water, get that water and calm down.'_

* * *

Reginald went to the recreation room and got a glass of water. He sat down on one of the spare chairs, reflecting on what he'd learnt about this ship up to this point. The _Condoris_ lay beneath literal tons of water. The water was heavy. The _Condoris_ was heavy. It seemed impossible to shift, if that was all the power the thrusters could manage. They would be stuck down here forever. But Sylvia saw past this. Sylvia knew it could be done.

Hooter came in with his empty cup.  
Reginald nodded in greeting. "The gravity of this place is overwhelming." He mentioned.  
"That's why the captain had the anti-gravity net reinforced." Hooter said in a casual tone.  
"Oh of course." Reginald rubbed his face. "I haven't even got up to that yet."

Hooter made a coffee for himself.

"Congratulations on making progress, agent."  
"I beg your pardon?" Reginald looked at Hooter in confusion.  
Hooter sat down opposite him. "You've rotated us by three degrees. That's the most this ship has moved since it settled in down here."  
_'Rotated? J, then H and I. No. It was supposed to be I, then H and J. That was why it had rotated rather than move forward. Darn it!'_ Reginald sighed in defeat.

His thoughts turned back to Hooter sitting in front of him. From Sylvia's parental scolding to Hooter's chirpy commendation. It was strange.

Hooter sipped his coffee. "Is there something the matter?" He asked.  
"I don't know where to begin answering that." Reginald picked up his empty glass to get more water.  
"You could start by acknowledging your own progress, agent."  
Reginald refilled his glass from the large water jug. "I've always had trouble with that."  
"Oh dear." Hooter said. "Success isn't about making a problem go away, Bushroot. Every battle you win or lose; the war still rages on."  
"That's true." Reginald came back to his seat. "But I don't think I'll ever stop worrying about things."  
Hooter sighed. "Better to worry than not care at all, I suppose."  
"People like that are awful." Reginald agreed. "Oh... Well I suppose there would be vampires like that too."

Hooter was silent.

Hooter's silence was odd.

"For an expert you don't talk much."  
"Frankly, I'm confounded." Hooter answered. "You're saying your sire is _'not'_ like that."  
"I can't say anything till I meet him." Reginald said.  
"No." Hooter didn't look very impressed. "In fact the evidence is overwhelming. _You. Weren't. Bitten._"  
Reginald's stomach turned and he felt pale. "No, I wasn't, but I didn't want to bring it up because I know you're friends with her." He finished, referring to Doctor Sara Bellum.

Hooter stared at Reginald for a long moment with a stunned look on his face. "I'm... right?" He rubbed his head as though it were impossible. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm..." He got up and left the room.

Reginald sat in the empty room for a moment longer before getting up. "Oh well. At least I'm not hiding anything anymore."

* * *

Reginald got back to the piloting room.

"-grandchildren." Muddlefoot finished.  
Sylvia giggled, standing over at Muddlefoot's management station. "Such a little miss."

"Sylvia." Reginald stepped in. "I'm ready to give it another try."  
"Keen." Sylvia went over to the operations station. "O.k. last time we touched on the thrusters. This time we'll map you to the anti-gravity grid. Let's start by turning the whole thing on."  
"Great. Maybe I can move this barge more than a couple measly degrees this time." He focused his mind and pushed through the connections, willing it as hard as he could. The grid came online.

They didn't move a fraction.

"Nicely done." Sylvia told him.  
"It wasn't that hard." Reginald grumbled. "How do we 'l_i_ft' using the grid?"  
"By lowering power to the top ones." Sylvia answered.  
"Right." Reginald cut the power to the top ones.

_"No, not off!"_ Sylvia said in surprise.  
"But how can we move anywhere with-?"

"_On_, put them back online, Reggie." She said in a firm tone.  
"Alright." Reginald restored the power. "So now we're not moving anywhere again."

"Hmm, well, this is an interesting puzzle..." Sylvia commented to herself. "It's a pity you're not a glass-half-full kind of guy, Reggie."  
"I try to be." He answered. "What puzzle? What are you looking at over there?" He craned his head to see.

"_No, no, Reggie, stay on the_-whoops."

The deck bounced once. Reginald grabbed the controls and turned the anti-gravity grid back online.

"Oh, that fixed it." Sylvia said.

Reginald sat there in shock. "We... bounced... Sylvia, what am I doing? How come we bounced?"  
"Inertia and gravity, dear." She answered. "So we want the computer to keep the anti-gravity grid completely on."  
It was a moment and Reginald had booted up the computer control. "Alright."  
"And the thrusters completely off."  
"Sure."

"That's great, now the computer's holding us in place. You can let go."  
"I..." Reginald flinched. "What if we bounce again?"  
"We won't." She assured him. "The computer will hold us now. It's a great parking space. Come on, Reggie. I'm not going without you. Bed time."

Reginald jerked away uneasily from the controls. "So... we're out of the water?"  
"Not a molecule in sight." Sylvia answered with a tired giggle.  
He stood up and went to her overview station to see for himself. The sky was a dirty grey and the ground was black. "Well, um... we're upside down..."  
"We're a flying saucer. We can park whichever way up we like and nobody else will notice. Not even the moonlanders." She let off another tired giggle. "Next time we just need to feather the power levels on the anti-gravs."  
"And strangle the thrusters."  
"No." She corrected. "It'll be different now with the anti-gravs, dear."  
"Wh-?" Reginald was confused again.

"We know the system works." Muddlefoot interrupted, stepping over to them. "That should be enough to let us all get some sleep." He looked at Reginald. "It just goes to show what perseverance nets you. Well done, Agent Bushroot."

Reginald gazed back at Muddlefoot. He'd proven himself. He wasn't a '_shovel-head_'. He wasn't a simpleton. There was only one word to answer him with.

"Thanks."


	19. Liberar al Pueblo

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 97**

* * *

**Liberar al Pueblo**

* * *

Fenton was at the window of his bedroom, watching Drake, or 'Dally' through the fogged up glass panes. Dally was in the grounds, going around the garden perimeter. Again.

He'd really been doing this all night? He was certainly serious about it. The irony was that even if this magic miracle worked, all it would do was protect McDuck manor. Everyone else in Duckburg was still at the mercy of the Nazis. Everyone else would continue to suffer.

They weren't doing enough. Not magic, nor vampires were big enough to deal with an entire army of brutality.

Right now, Fenton wasn't helping much either. He looked back again to the Gizmo armour sitting inert and limp on the chair.

"The Wasp Woman." Fenton took another gulp of water from his glass, wishing his frayed nerves would mend the way Drake had mended his ribs. Why had this monstrous thing been in his apartment? His mother had never mentioned it. Fenton knew, if he put it on, it would attach to his nervous system. After that, there was no telling if he'd ever get it off again. If he became this thing, he could fight the Nazis, but at the risk of losing himself. Could he bring himself to make that sacrifice? There was no telling how long the Nazis would keep the police hostage in the station. No telling how long his m'ma would survive.

The room grew lighter. The dawn was beating back the cool foggy morning mist. Fenton opened the window and got the Autumn chill straight into his face, waking him up with a snap. He couldn't resist leaning out to fill his lungs with the sharp fresh morning air of the countryside. The smell of fallen leaves and the misty dew. The wide open space McDuck called his backyard.

Purple lightning flashed in the distance just over the cloud of fog catching Fenton's attention.

* * *

_"What happened?" Reginald Bushroot asked in a startle as the sound of electricity sizzled in his ears. "We've lost X and Y."  
__"We've been hit." Captain Muddlefoot reported from across the piloting room._

_"Put more power to W and Z." Sylvia Sputterspark told Reginald.  
__"They're already at maximum." He answered.  
__"Then reduce the other anti gravs." Sylvia answered.  
__"If I do we might go down."  
__"Just feather it, Reggie."_

_"No, that's not what he's saying." Muddlefoot interrupted. "Head west, Doctor Sputterspark. We need to get clear of that town before we can even think of doing anything else."  
__"Alright. Reggie, thrusters D, E and C."_

_Muddlefoot's voice suddenly echoed through the ship's speakers. "All hands, this may be a rough landing!"_

* * *

The shape of a flying saucer skimmed across the top of the fog, heading towards the manor. It grew bigger, then swung about. It teetered, the saucer did, until at last it took a turn and headed out into the western fields, dipping back down beneath the fog.

The glass in the window rattled violently, the floorboards shook, the flowerpot jumped. The water in the washbasin rippled.

Fenton grabbed the window ledge. _"Blathering Blatherskite! That was incredi-!"_

He spun around, hearing an electrical whirring behind him. The machinery was starting up; the Gizmoduck suit!

"No, no; down, down, stop!" The thing rose up from the lazy perch and surrounded him, attaching itself to him. Connecting to his brain.

'"Gah!" Fenton teetered uncertainly for a moment as an otherworldly set of images overlayed the normal ones. He looked at his black gloved hands. "So much for that debate." There was no point arguing about it now.

He dove out the window to find Dally back on the front lawn. The energy overlay image showed a massive field of purple energy around a modest greeny-blue one. "How many energy fields do you have, Drake?"  
"Two." Drake answered. "My wife and I. Fenton, are you-."  
"Fine and dandy, citizen." Fenton swerved about on his tyre.

Fenton saw the others coming out of the house. McDuck, Launchpad and Donald.

"Those Nazis have had control of Duckburg for long enough!" He declared to them; "It's time to take it back!"  
_"Yeah!"_ Donald said.  
"We're with you, Gizmoduck!" Launchpad said.

"Liberar al Pueblo!" Gizmoduck charged off, heading into town.

* * *

The Nazi patrols didn't stand a chance against the combined might of Gizmoduck, Donald and Launchpad. They got to the police station and burst in through the doors. The station was swarming with Nazis guarding the place. Within minutes it was a mess of unconscious guards.

Fenton in the Gizmoduck suit got downstairs and went to break open the cells.

"Patito!" His mother was relieved, then immediately told him off. "Where are the keys for the cells? This is police property. You cannot just 'break' them open. Think!" She said in her lecturing voice.

So scalded, Fenton went back upstairs for the cell keys. Another trip downstairs and the police officers were free.

That was when the world washed over with purple.

* * *

Fenton teetered for a moment on the unityre as his memories shifted and changed back. Mr McDuck, the 21st Century, Drake... No, Darkwing Duck...

"What has made the world turn back to normal?" His mother asked aloud, breaking in on Fenton's thoughts.

Everyone stood there in puzzlement for a moment.

"McDuck and Darkwing." It only took Fenton a moment to realise who hadn't joined him in rescuing the police department. "They're at the Institute." He looked at Launchpad and Donald. "Let's go!"


	20. Smarter

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 98**

* * *

**Smarter**

* * *

Scrooge McDuck woke to an impact boom that shook the house.

_"Blathering Blatherskite!" _

_"Fenton!"_ Scrooge jumped out of bed, jammed his day clothes on and grabbed his cane and glasses, racing for the front door. "No, Fenton, stay here!"

* * *

"Gizmoduck!" McDuck dashed out of the house. Launchpad and Scrooge's nephews quickly ran out before him. "We need your help to-."

"Those Nazis have had control of Duckburg for long enough!" Fenton declared. "It's time to take it back!"  
"Yeah!" Donald said.  
"We're with you, Gizmoduck!" Launchpad said.  
"Liberar al Pueblo!" Gizmoduck charged off.

* * *

_"Ach no, boys!"_ McDuck snatched the triplets up as Launchpad and Donald ran out the front gate after Gizmoduck.

"Aw, but-!"

"Will someone listen to me for once! We've got to be smart about this, lads." McDuck put them down and looked over at Dally. "Are ye not going to follow him too?" He asked in a scathing tone.  
"Mr McDuck..." Dally's eyes were filled with a simmering luminescent purple. "That UFO was attacking the institute. They've made a way for us to get in; but we have to be quick. The Fuhrer will be rebuilding his defences."  
"Agreed." Scrooge said, glancing back as Mrs Beakley and the girls joined them in the driveway.

"Harley, Lena?"  
"Right here and ready to roll, Darkwing." Harley answered.

"Wait, Darkwing?" Dewey said.  
"How come Lena gets to go but we can't?" Huey asked.  
"Lena's-." Louie started.

Scrooge was snatched away from Louie's next words, leaving the air in his lungs behind him as well. The countryside highway was a visual buzz under them, the sky and grass was a whirl of green and blue; tree, bush, trunk, the fog became a certain companion.

* * *

They paused at the gate to the university, lifting up to see the destruction from the UFO. An entire wall of the presidential building had been sheared away. The grounds were almost vacant of guards.

The early morning sun pierced the fog, pressing them firmly to the ground. They skirted up the shadow of a drainpipe, in through the breached wall to the first floor.

* * *

They got to the corner room. Chairs were strewn about, a bookshelf had fallen, the desk was intact but the statue in the corner was broken and leaning on the busted remains of a large pot plant.

Scrooge, Lena, Harley and Dally were corporeal again. With an impacting shock, Scrooge found himself in a heap with Dally behind the fallen bookshelf while Lena and Harley dove off to the other side of the room behind a broken office chair.  
"Sorry; not the best landing I've ever considered." Dally quickly apologised.

_"You just had to get on the bandwagon, didn't you?!"_ Felldrake said. A bolt of lightning magic hit the wall behind them.

'Somebody get that necklace!' Scrooge pointed at Felldrake, looking over at Lena.  
'Sure, no problem.' She mouthed back and then ducked as another bolt flew over her head.  
"Wow, she and Harley have the same sense of humour. I didn't know that" Dally commented casually as another bolt of energy flew over their heads.  
"Don't get cocky, lad!" McDuck told him off. "We don't have him, yet."

_"Why do good guys always come in sets? It's like shooting fish in a barrel."_ Felldrake chortled.

"Let me get them." Shelldrake came in the doorway. Dally jumped over the fallen bookshelf and disappeared from Scrooge's sight. Scrooge turned his attention to Shelldrake who headed toward him. Scrooge blocked Shelldrake's staff with his cane.

"I've got you, Lena!" Scrooge heard Dally say as Scrooge parried Shellgoose's advance.

_"You might want to practice better magic hygiene!"_ Felldrake chortled.

Scrooge heard another bolt of energy and the sound of a body hitting the front of the bookcase.  
"Argh!" Morgana's voice cried out in pain.

Scrooge tripped Shellgoose up and turned the corner to take on Felldrake.

"I've got it!" Lena snatched the amulet from around Felldrake's neck. It zapped her with a purple haze and she dropped it near Scrooge's foot.  
"I've got it." Shelldrake scrambled across the floor to it.  
Scrooge flicked it away from Shelldrake to Harley before diving clear of the next bolt towards Morgana.  
Shelldrake let off a squawk.

Scrooge got to Morgana. The pain showed on her face, it looked like her leg was hurt? He dragged her back behind the busted desk and caught his breath.

"No, I've got it." Harley said then shrieked, making Scrooge look out from behind the desk to see Harley stumble back, turning to metal and reshaping into a motorbike.  
_"Harley!"_ Drake Mallard's voice cried out from the pot plant on the other side of Felldrake.

_"Ha, so now I've got it back."_ Felldrake moved to pick it back up off the floor at his feet.

**"Oh, no you don't!"** Drake thundered darkly.

The amulet flew up into the air and out of Felldrake's reach. It floated, suspended, bathing them in an expanding purple haze.

"No!" Horror filled the theurgist's face. "You'll ruin everything, vampire! Where are you?" Felldrake fired faster magic bolts madly around the room. The purple haze enveloped him and then spread out to Scrooge.

* * *

"Ach!" Scrooge struggled against the strange fatigue as he fought to escape the haze. The room was purple. "Like... Agent M..." He realised, struggling, fighting against the heavy urge to sleep.

_"NO!"_ Felldrake's shriek sounded as though he were a mountain away. _"That power is MINE!"_

**"Drake, STOP THIS INSTANT!"** Morgana's voice bellowed, startling Scrooge clear awake.

The haze let Scrooge go. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Ach, it was sucking the life out of..." He stopped. "Like a vampire." Scrooge looked around his side of the desk. He could see the front wheel of the motorbike over near the wall. "Harley. She must be an AI. Lena, are ye alright?" Scrooge called to her.

"I'm fine." She answered. "How's Morgana?"  
Scrooge looked back to Morgana  
"That was uncomfortably close." Morgana answered his questioning gaze. She looked back down at her red dress.  
"It doesn't look too bad." Scrooge quickly gave it an overview. "Might be a fracture or a muscle sprain. We'll get the doctor's to take a look at you."  
"No, it-it's nothing like that." Morgana gritted her beak. "You would think a cleaning spell was beneath a theurgist."  
Scrooge realised the room was still too quiet. "Wait, where's Felldrake and Shellgoose?"

"Never mind where they are!" Morgana answered in a temper. "Just consider yourself lucky you didn't go with them." She tried to get up. "Ugh." She fell back into a seat on the floor. "Oh, why did I try to do that?" She sighed in personal annoyance. "Of course; and what rational reason could I ever possibly want to stand?" She grumbled. "Drake." She called across the room. "Shelter."

The room clouded in a dark mist for a moment.

"Morgana!" Scrooge stared at the empty space beside him.  
"What's wrong?" Lena came across the room.  
"She's gone." Scrooge answered.  
"So's Harley." Lena said as she helped him up.

Scrooge looked around the untidy room. He was glad it wasn't his own study.

"Why would he leave us here?" Lena asked.

* * *

The door burst open and in wheeled Gizmoduck.

"That's a pretty good reason." Lena shrugged. "He must've heard them coming or something."

_"Uncle Scrooge!"_ Donald hurried up to him. _"You're okay. You got me so worried."  
_"Aye. Because you think I've gone and lost my marbles, the lot of ye."  
Gizmoduck looked rather sheepish. "Felldrake seems to be dealt with?"  
"Aye. Would've been easier if the lot of you'd been here to support us." Scrooge said in a strong tone, putting his cane back down on the floor.

"Where's the amulet?" Lena began searching the room.  
Scrooge let out a long breath. "I wouldn't wonder if Darkwing took it with them, Lena."

"Darkwing's left?" Launchpad asked from behind Gizmoduck.

Scrooge turned to them. "I wouldn't wonder where to." He stretched his back. Fatigue was blurring his vision. He'd definitely had a chunk taken out of him. "We'd all best get ourselves home."

* * *

As they walked out of the battle zone and down the stairs, it suddenly struck McDuck that Launchpad was dressed in his old brown clothes.

"Launchpad!" Scrooge gazed at him. "You're back to your old self!"  
"Ah..." Launchpad rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, sorry about that, Mr McDee. Don't know what came over me."  
"Never mind, lad!" Scrooge smiled. "Let's just get ourselves home."

They stepped out the front door. The roadway was littered with 21st century cars. The garden and fountain square before them was no longer a searing black scorch mark.

There wasn't a Nazi in sight.

"He did it." Lena was breathless. "I don't know where he got the energy from, but he did it."  
Scrooge turned to her. "Are you alright, lass?"  
"F-fine." She put her hand to her chest. "Really. Let's go. The further I get away from that place, the better." She thumbed behind her.

Scrooge looked back at the university's presidential building. It still looked ominous and haunted by evil. It was no longer ripped open. "I'll see to it that place gets pulled down."

_"If you do that, where will the president live?"_ Donald asked.  
"What about that shack next door?"  
_"That's my shack!"_ Donald exclaimed. _"I mean condo."  
_"Couldn't you rent it out to them? Come on, lad, where's your financial sense?"  
_"It's a long story."_ Donald turned away from him in a grumble.  
"Aye, I've seen it in there; it's probably not what a president would want to live in."

Donald started muttering curses under his breath and began walking away.

"Donald, you're going the wrong way." Lena called to him.  
_"I'm going to talk to my friend."_ He said and headed in the direction of his shack. _"Don't wait up."_

"I really think you hit a sore spot, Mr McDuck." Lena commented.  
"Aye, well, it beats me." Scrooge shrugged. "Thought that place was empty."  
"Alright, everybody else ready then?" Gizmoduck started his propeller and picked the three of them up, carrying them off back home.


	21. Spaceship Removal

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 99**

* * *

**Spaceship Removal**

* * *

In a distant paddock, a strange black obelisk was sticking out of the ground.

"What on earth is that thing on Grover's Farm?" Scrooge McDuck asked as they flew on up the road.  
"It must have been what crashed this morning." Gizmoduck said.  
"Take us over, Gizmoduck." Scrooge said.

They landed on the grassy flatland not far off from the crashed ship. Scrooge studied the saucer buried a quarter of the way into the earth. It was blackened, mottled and lumpy.  
"What's that stuck to the hull?" Lena asked.  
Gizmoduck analysed the material. "They appear to be barnacles. The ship must've been in the sea for a long time."  
"What's it doing out here now?" Lena asked.

"S.H.U.S.H. must've tried an aerial attack on Felldrake." Scrooge considered. "Though how they got their hands on a deep sea relic is beyond me. Can you make out what the damage is?"  
"No unprotected biologicals could survive reentry into the atmosphere. They burnt to a crisp." Gizmoduck said.  
Scrooge was puzzled for a moment. "...The ship, man, not the blasted barnacles!" Scrooge walked forward with a grumble. "Come on. They might be in need of a hand."

They got to the edge of the dirt mound and Scrooge waved. "I'm Agent Scrooge McDuck. Could you do with some help?"

A black mist poured out of a vent from the side of the ship.  
"It's another vampire!" Lena's voice vanished into the mist as did the air from Scrooge's lungs.

* * *

A few moments later they were standing on the deck of the spacecraft.

"Sorry about that." A tall thin duck-looking agent was standing beside them. "But the gravity shift would've been weirder for you if we'd thrown you a ladder. I'm Captain Mm-..." He stopped.  
"Agent M." Scrooge nodded to him. "You helped us with that outbreak last week."  
Agent M looked at Launchpad. "Thanks for coming over to help. I mean; 'welcome aboard'." He looked at Lena.  
"Oh, I'm Lena." Lena shrugged. "Just... here for the ride!"  
"Nice asymmetry. My eldest would love that hairstyle."

"Why can't you pull up?" Scrooge asked.  
"Our pilot's gone into shock." Agent M answered. "And we're not going anywhere if he's not."

* * *

They crossed the radial passage to a room labelled 'tea room'.  
"It's not your fault we crashed, Reggie." A feminine voice in the room said. "The system we designed was too slow to react to return fire."

As Scrooge stepped into the doorway, the person talking had dark curly hair standing in front of the table. Another step into the room and Scrooge saw a shrub with pink floral petals for hair seated beside Agent Hooter. Scrooge's memory flashed back to the nightly battles he'd been having in the last few weeks.  
"Doctor Sputterspark." Agent M got her attention and she turned. "This is Agent McDuck, Mr McQuack, and Lena De Spell. Agent Hooter, Agent Bushroot."

"Bushroot! He's that villain from the Darkwing Duck TV show!" Launchpad said.  
"So everyone tells me." Bushroot muttered.

"Mr McDuck, this was how those vampires were escaping detection for so long." Gizmoduck added.  
Bushroot snorted and looked slowly up at them. "Maybe if you cleaned your visor more often...?" He had a tired and weathered expression on his face. "I'm not hostile; anybody who says otherwise has an aversion to good study habits."

"Pardon us, Agent." Scrooge apologised to Bushroot. "We've just had some trouble with Earth vampires here in Duckburg recently. Seeing another one just caught us by surprise."  
"Earth vampires?" Bushroot repeated in question.  
"It's your appearance." Hooter cleared his throat. "Plant form falls into the earth discipline."  
"Aye; it's an expert skill to change your shape like this."  
Bushroot put his face in his hands.

Hooter looked at Launchpad. "Mr McQuack, do you have any idea how we might get the ship back up into the air?"  
"You'll want to reverse your propellers." Launchpad answered, putting his hands on his hips.  
Bushroot flinched. "B-but what if the anti gravs send us up in space again?"  
"It's simple." Gizmoduck said. "Negative the multiplication factor of the weight of the spaceship, sustain it long enough to reorient and-."  
"_There!_ That's when we'll crash!" Bushroot said.  
"I could do it, but not while I'm wearing this suit." Gizmoduck said quietly aside to McDuck.

"What about the thrusters, doctor?" Hooter asked. "Agent Bushroot achieved a very certain outcome when he was using only those."  
"Only the thrusters? Against gravity?" Agent Bushroot said.  
"Do it all the time." Launchpad said. "We call it... 'take off'." He drew his hand in front of him. "After that it's clear skies ahead. Especially today." He put his hands on his hips. "Great flying weather now the fog's lifted."  
"I have to agree." Doctor Sputterspark said. "Gravity's our friend, not our enemy. We have to work with it. We just need enough momentum to let the aerodynamics of the Condoris actually mean something."

"Mr McQuack." Agent M said. "If we bring all directional thrusters online-."  
_"Why are you asking him; that's my job!"_ Bushroot glared at Agent M. "He's not a vampire, anyway! It'll take him years to learn the controls!"  
"I'd say ten minutes." Agent M said quietly. "The problem is the more we split that job the greater the rate of clumsiness."  
_"You know, I don't have to be here!"_ Bushroot's face was flushed deep green as he glared at Agent M. "I can catch a bus."  
"If-." Agent M began.  
"Stop." Hooter interrupted. "Agent M; please try a different tack."  
Agent M sighed. For a moment there was a loaded silence. "...Gizmoduck? We could use your help down in the engine room."  
"Sure."  
"Apparently Agent M can't think of a less confrontational method of communication right now." Hooter said after they'd left.  
Bushroot snorted.

"Mm, yum!"

Scrooge looked over at Lena. She was standing over by the tea table beside the door, a bite taken out of a cupcake.  
"This one's _'really'_ good, you should try it, Mr McDuck." Lena said, enjoying the tea snacks. "You guys are really lucky to get to play with this giant toy of yours."  
"Mr McQuack," Doctor Sputterspark said. "I'd love it if you could come look at the controls."  
"Sure." Launchpad followed after her.

Scrooge turned back to the look of betrayal on Bushroot's face. "It can't hurt just to let Launchpad help you off the ground, lad." Scrooge defended. "He knows crashes better than anybody."  
Bushroot rubbed his face. "I'll help, I'll help." He stood up.  
"Sit down, lad." Scrooge noticed him shaking.  
"I got it out of the water... I can get it out of the dirt."  
"Aye, but you're in shock." Scrooge eyed him. "Let Launchpad get this ship back up and park it at my place until you're steady again."  
"Thank you. But he still can't fly this ship without me." Bushroot left the room.

Hooter let out a long sigh, "In that private library of yours, is there anything on fledglings?"  
Scrooge tapped the end of his cane on the floor. "Not everything is S.H.U.S.H.'s business, Hooter."  
"That's exactly something Darkwing would say!" Hooter argued.  
"You shouldn'a be handling fledglings."  
"I certainly don't want it for myself."  
_"Ye' not letting a fledgling Earth vampire around my family!"_

"McDuck, tell me; what sort of vampires feed on emotions and electricity as well as sunlight?"  
"A Heart vampire?" Scrooge straightened. "Why don't those two get along?"  
Agent Hooter shrugged. "Bushroot likes a straight talker-."  
"Aye, you can't be too popular, then." Scrooge retorted.  
"I've explained my position..." Hooter moved to check his phone.

There was a sound of motors off in the distance, the sound of metal heaving to.

After a moment of looking at his phone, Hooter stood up. "McDuck, how were you able to restore us to the 21st century?"  
"Me, I can field that." Lena interrupted, abandoning the tea table. "Darkwing Duck forced the crystal to reverse Felldrake's casting."  
"Darkwing; my goodness, this is getting serious." Hooter left the room.

Scrooge followed Hooter out into the corridor. "What do ye' mean by 'serious'?"  
Hooter turned back to him. "That's confidential, agent."

With Lena right behind him, Scrooge hurried after Hooter to the control room. Launchpad was standing beside Doctor Sputterspark.

"Now we just ease the nose back down a little. Easy does it." Launchpad said.  
"That does it, Reggie." Doctor Sputterspark said. "You can turn on the antigravity grid now. We're now in hover mode."  
"We've got an altitude of forty three metres." Launchpad reported.  
"That's too low." Doctor Sputterspark said.  
"It's too late to adjust it." Agent M said. "We've got to make repairs first."  
"Let's double back out of this forest." Launchpad said.  
"Okay, I can do that." Bushroot said timidly from his seat nearby.

"Hooter." Scrooge refocused on him, "I went into a fight with him just now; I have a right to know what the matter is."  
Hooter raised an eyebrow. "An agent can't continue forever, McDuck. One gets tired and starts losing efficacy."  
"Vampires don't get tired, Hooter." Scrooge corrected him. "They take a bite out of you and keep going."  
Hooter straightened. "He's not a vampire, Agent."  
"Quit being stubborn, Hooter! If it wasn't for Morgana-."

"Slow the left thruster," Launchpad dictated. "We want to make a slight course adjustment. Take your time, Bushroot, we've got plenty of airway to tidy it up."

"Darkwing Duck is S.H.U.S.H.'s best agent, McDuck." Hooter said in a severe tone. "Whatever you report to S.H.U.S.H. management, they're aware of the underlying issue and they have already taken steps to address it." His tone became cheerful again. "The new Assistant Director will consider your report after she gets back to the office on Monday. Maybe she can think up something new that'll help. Now, please excuse me." His voice took on a business tone. "Everything's in hand here; I'm required to report in for priority two assignment."

Scrooge glared after Hooter for another moment.

"We're home, Mr McDee." Launchpad turned to him. "We're parked right over your backyard."

"Well, so much for the sunny day." Lena shrugged.

"Come on, Agent Bushroot." Scrooge resolved. "I have a book that might help you."


	22. I'm Sorry

**The Legend of Gizmoduck**

* * *

**Part 100**

* * *

**I'm Sorry**

* * *

With a dark breeze, Darkwing appeared with Morgana in front of the caravan and carried her in. When he stepped out, he caught Gosalyn's gaze for a moment. The dark expression on his face didn't change. Then he turned to shadow and swept away behind the caravan. Gosalyn left Honker at the magic table and ran after the blotch of darkness to a far corner of McDuck's garden. The black mist solidified into a tree in front of one of Scrooge McDuck's garden beds. Branches grew and reached upwards and outwards, sprouting leaves as they did. Green summery leaves.

"Darkwing?" Gosalyn asked.  
The tree inclined a small branch toward her but otherwise said nothing.  
"Are you alright?"  
The tree said nothing, obviously.  
"You know it's autumn, right? Fall? Your leaves are supposed to be orange." Getting nothing back out of the tree, Gosalyn rubbed her head. Morgana could talk. Morgana still had a beak!

Gosalyn raced back to the caravan.  
"W-wait! She's sleeping." Honker said.  
Gosalyn pushed past him. "Geez, not for the first five minutes, Honk; she just got here." Gosalyn climbed up the stairs into the caravan.

"Are you okay, Morgana?" Gosalyn asked, "What happened to you guys over there?"  
"How do I put this?" Morgana sat up on the bed and looked at Gosalyn. "Erm, Felldrake hit us with..." Morgana pursed her beak. "He hit us with a de-spell. One simple little cleaning spell a child could do. How a master theurgist even thought of it I don't suppose." Morgana sighed, "I'm sorry, Gosalyn. Darkwing used up every ounce of power he could find to bring everyone back to the beginning of all this. Not everyone was lost exactly at the same time... I'm sorry." Morgana looked away down to the blanket over her and gave a heavy sigh. "This whole thing is terrible."

"What's wrong?" Gosalyn felt a shard of panic in her chest. "Please don't tell me you're going to die too!"  
"No!" Morgana sat up straight. "No, sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think that." Morgana offered Gosalyn a hug and Gosalyn took it.

Morgana sighed. "I don't have a lot of experience being a parent. I usually am better at being positive though."  
Gosalyn pulled away from her and wiped her eyes. "So then... what 'is' wrong?"  
"Well... I better just show you." Morgana pulled on the covers till the bottom edge crept up.

Gosalyn saw silvery tail fins. "You're a mermaid? That's cool!"  
"You think it's 'cool'. Really?" Morgana sighed. "All I can think of is how difficult showering's going to be."  
"Can't you just magic your legs back if you don't want a tail?"  
"No. I have no magic." Morgana gave a weak smile. "I don't even know if... well, there's a lot I don't know right now."

"If showering's a problem you could take a bath."  
_"No!"_ Morgana shrieked and hid her face in her hands.

"What, what on earth?" Morgana took several steadying breaths. "Where did that come from?" When she looked back up at Gosalyn she was bright pink under her feathers. "I'm... sorry. I know you're trying to help, I... I'm an adult. Allegedly." She gulped. Morgana smoothed the covers down with an unsteady breath.

"I'll come back later..."  
Morgana looked up at Gosalyn, an obviously fake smile on her face. "It's my job to help you, Gosalyn. What's the matter?"  
"Darkwing turned into a tree. I don't think he recognises me."  
"Of course he recognises you, sweetie. You're his little angel."

Gosalyn? An angel? Said no teacher ever. She let the comment slide. "I just want to know you guys are okay."  
"We're fine, sweetie." Morgana stifled a yawn. "Your father will drive us home tonight. He'll get me a wheelchair. I can use a stool in the shower... It's not perfect, but there isn't anything to panic about. Erm, and he'll be fine after his nap. He's been through quite a lot worse these past few weeks; if anything that's just made him more..." She looked for a word. "Like a rock." She rubbed her head and suppressed a yawn.

Gosalyn nodded. "Okay. Well good night. Day." She corrected herself in confusion.

"Try to have fun, dear. You can play with the other children. We'll be here a few hours at least..." She yawned again. "Oh, dear. That's what you get for staying awake all night and day."  
Gosalyn nodded and left the caravan feeling daunted. Morgana had literally not explained the reason she was so apologetic.

"Gosalyn!" Honker jumped up and down, waving his phone, "Mum's on the phone! My family's fine!"  
"That's great, Honker!" Gosalyn said just as her phone in her own pocket began ringing.

The split second of excitement vanished when Gosalyn read the caller's name.

It was Unknown.


End file.
